Journey to a Curious Place
by TheTwilightMoon
Summary: Kayla Harris suddenly finds herself in the middle of the woods, with no memory of how she got there. She will have to learn to survive, adapt, and resist the urge to accidentally re-write someone's entire life; or death. Sounds easy, right? "Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes." - Oscar Wilde. My attempt at a Mary-Sue story, but with more logical outcomes. Complete.
1. Kayla Harris

**A/N:** **Greetings, fellow Tolkien fans! So, few years ago, I attempted to begin a fanfiction (albeit at the time it was a** _ **heavy**_ **Mary-Sue fanfic) depicting the story of a girl names Kayla Harris, and her adventures throughout Middle Earth. It was a BoromirxOC fic and, sadly, I never ended up finishing it. I have thought back on occasion to the story, and wanted to finish it one day. My writing style in the last five years has changed drastically, however, so when I went back to re-read the story, and perhaps continue it, I shuddered immensely. So, after some thought, and a LOT of talking aloud to myself, I decided to just start over. I scrapped the old story, kept with the basic premise, and here we are!**

 **WARNING TO READERS:** **while this story is NOT as heavily Mary-Sue as the last, there are inevitably going to be Mary-Sue qualities. Such as, first off, a girl falling into Middle Earth. Let's be honest, who wouldn't want to be sucked into their favorite story? That being said, who wouldn't want to be sucked into their favorite story and have everyone go perfectly? That is not this story. People will die, characters will hate each other, and there will be tears. Kayla will have some luck, but not in the beginning. I want to try to keep the cutesy, sometimes silly feel of Mary-Sue stories, but also add as much realism as I can (at least, I will try.)**

 **Anyway, I have ranted enough, you have all been warned. If you do not like Mary-Sues, or Mary-Sue like stories, kindly click away now. If not, read on, and enjoy! Feedback and suggestions are welcome; R &R, please!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter One:**

 **Kayla Harris**

* * *

I was chewing on my thumbnail again.

It was something I had done from the time I was a little girl. I only ever did it when I was either concentrating really hard, or nervous about something. I could feel the nail beginning to bend and tear against my teeth, as my saliva wore it down. It was only when the jagged edge nearly sliced my lip open that I finally stopped, and pulled my hand back to examine the crude remains of the now chipped purple nail polish. I frowned, and rubbed my index finger over the tip, feeling it scrape against my skin.

I exhaled slowly, and my eyes drifted back to the screen of my laptop, the essay I was only partially finished glaring back at me. The dull hum of the AC unit on my ceiling blended in with the drone of the cooling pad I had resting underneath my beast of a computer. I had three-hundred more words to write before I would hit the minimum word count for my essay, and it was proving to be the bane of my existence. I was in my last semester of college, and with the final weeks of school looking ahead of me, the world seemed to be slowing down. I was finding it harder and harder to stay focused in class, discovering that my mind would wander to other, more interesting things than my weekly English Literature lectures. I would daydream about the current video game I was playing, or my favorite movie or book I was into at the time. Sometimes, I would get so bored that I would spend the entire class on my phone, scrolling through Tumblr or Facebook. It would take great restraint to not start giggling like a moron in the middle of class over something I had found on either, and occasionally I would whisper and show a friend or two, which would sometimes earn us a disapproving glare from the professor.

It wasn't that I had a bad life – I really didn't. I just sometimes felt that I didn't belong in this one. I know that sounds pretty morbid, but hear me out. I am not saying I am suicidal or anything, and am not saying I want to "leave this life to go to next" or something like that, but honestly, there were days where I really felt like a foreigner in my own home, school, and city. I had grown up in a small, wealthy town in Western Canada, so most of my hometown consisted of elderly people, and Conservatives. Not that there anything wrong with either, but my wistful, sometimes "left-wing" way of thinking often earned me stern lectures from my parents or colleagues. The friends I had weren't like that, and I adored them, but with school ending soon, we would all be going out own ways, and it left me having huge bouts of upcoming separation anxiety.

I normally turned to reading or video games as a means of passing the time when I couldn't concentrate but, as I already said, it was getting harder and harder to concentrate, even on the things I loved the most. Part of me wished I had enough money to just pack up and run somewhere far away, or even just escape in to the woods.

But then I remembered that I am a huge wimp who wouldn't last one day on her own. I barely leave my room as it is – I already looked like a goddamn ghost next to the rest of my family. I like being pale, though. I am a hermit, and proud of it.

I blew a raspberry with my lips, and scrunched my face up as tight as I could. I was so tired, but I still had one more night class to go to. It started at 6pm and ended at 9pm, and let me tell you, I _really_ didn't want to go. It had been such a long day of studying for midterms, and trying to finish the godforsaken essay that I was in no mood to sit in a three hour lecture. But, I knew my anxiety would get the best of me before I could skip class, and I would spend the rest of the evening being a guilt-ridden mess, wondering what I missed, and how badly it would affect my grade, and overall GPA.

I pushed myself away from my desk, and closed my laptop, taking care to save my essay one last time before I ran to catch the city bus to the college. Unfortunately where I live, the busses are so terrible that I would end up at school about an hour before my class even started. That was the only time I could get there, because the next bus from my house wouldn't get me there until an hour into my class. Sometimes I wanted to write an angry letter to the city, complaining about the poor bus system, but then I would chicken out, not wanting to make anyone angry. One day I would bitch someone out about the busses. Maybe. If I was sure it wouldn't backfire. And I didn't freak out beforehand. Maybe.

I threw on some adult clothing, tossing my pyjamas that I had been wearing all day onto my bed. I yanked on my favorite pair of black leggings, and threw a loose t-shirt and mini skirt over that. I had opted out of wearing jeans about six months before, when my friend Kiera gave me a pair of beautiful navy leggings she didn't want anymore. After that, I had discarded all but two pairs of jeans, which I kept in case I had no other clothing. Jeans suck to try and squat in, anyway. Not that I did a lot of squatting, but still.

I put on a pair of mismatched socks, and hurriedly packed the rest of my crap into my backpack. Because I was a poor student, I was still living at home, though since my parents had been divorced for a number of years, every other week I had to travel back and forth between houses, meaning the amount I had to carry in my bag was twice as much two times a week, and I hated it. Tonight was one of those nights. I had to stuff my laptop, toiletry kit, all my school stuff, hair straightener, and phone charger into my already too small backpack. When I was done, it weighed probably the same as a small child, and I had to lug it around with me for the rest of the night until I went to my Mother's house after I was finished class. Not a fun time.

I ran a brush through my just-past-my-chin length hair, tucked it behind my ears, threw the brush in my bag, and raced upstairs to put on my shoes and run for the bus. I had maybe another ten minutes before it came by, but I had to move quickly or else I'd be late for class. As I came up the stairs, I found my Father in the kitchen, making dinner.

"Hey, sweetheart, want some spaghetti? It'll be done in about fifteen," He was stirring a huge pot of what I assumed was tomato sauce, and it smelled so good.

I regretfully declined his offer, despite my stomach gurgling in protest. "Sorry, Dad, I can't. I have class in a little over an hour. Gotta run to catch the bus."

He nodded once, "Right, sorry, I forgot." He turned back to his pot for a second to stir the contents, before turning back to me. "Well, there's still some leftover casserole from last night in the fridge in a container. If you take it with you, maybe you can heat it up at school and at least have eaten something before you go to class." I nodded, and scurried to the fridge to grab said container before I had to escape to the dreaded outside world. I was about to run out the door, when he called out to me one more time.

"Oh, your brother also made some Iced Tea, and saved you some. It's in the fridge too. You might want to drink it now, before I do." He winked at me, and turned back to making dinner. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't pass up a glass of Iced Tea – I loved the stuff. I threw open the fridge again, and saw the glass with the drink in it, and grabbed it. I barely had time to chug it back before I realized I only had five minutes left to get to the bus.

Wiping a bit of excess tea off my lip, I bid farewell to my Father, before tearing out the front door, down the steps, and towards the bus stop. I made it there just in time and, seeing how the street was so quiet, figured I had at least a few minutes before the bus would get there. I put my backpack down on the ground, and sat on it, so as to not get my butt dirty from the dusty sidewalk. It was late March, but I lived close to one of the only deserts in Canada, so some days could be very hot and dry here. I hated it. I have very dry skin, so I would get nosebleeds every summer at least three times a week.

As I stood at the bus stop, staring up at the already almost completely dark sky, I could see a few stars twinkling. I felt a small smile curve on my lip. I had always liked star-gazing. I had only seen a handle of shooting stars in my twenty-one years on Earth, and each time the wish had been the same, just for fun:

I wish I could live in one of my favorite stories.

I mean, I know it's cliché and a little ridiculous. But who wouldn't love that? From the time I was a little girl, I had always wondered what it would be like to be a part of some of my favorite stories: _Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones_ (the last is more so for the scenery – I would probably die if I was stuck in Westeros), or the Dragon Age, World of Warcraft, or Elder Scrolls worlds. Evidently I have a weakness for RPGs, and fantasy worlds. My world is just so damn _boring_. Don't try to argue – Earth really does just _suck_ sometimes.

Anyway, I would always wish that on a star for fun – don't ask me why. Maybe it's because I knew it was wistful, and that it would never happen, but I could still hope as a little kid would. That was something I hoped I never lose: my ability to imagine and wonder. Most adults, to me anyway, seemed to lose that aspect of themselves at a certain age. I think my parents' divorce more solidified that part of me, rather than killed it. I think part of my conscience reverted to that of a daydreaming little girl, rather than a hardened, cold adult.

It was in that moment during my internal monologue that I happened to glance up at the night sky, and saw, for a brief instant, something silver shoot across the darkness above me. _A shooting star!_ I thought excitedly. I quickly squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could, and clasped my hands together like the young me had done every time I had seen a shooting start from the time I was about eight years old, until now. I even curled my toes within my sneakers a little bit, as a means of crossing them along with my fingers as I interlaced them.

"I wish I could live in a story." My voice sounded harsh against the silence of the street, and it rang into the night as I felt a small, innocent smile play across my face. In times of great stress, in this case the stress coming from the end of my last year of college ever, wishing on stars like a Disney Princess was one of the only things I could do to keep me grounded.

Suddenly, I began to feel kind of odd. With my eyes still shut, I could feel the ground shift beneath me; or at least, I thought it did. I began to feel very dizzy, and I opened my eyes, trying to steady myself.

"What the fuck," I mumbled aloud, rubbing my eyes. I quickly sat down on my backpack, trying to ease the spinning. Sometimes I had random dizzy spells, but this didn't feel like one of those. It felt like I was on one of those metal things in old playground that kids would sit on, and their friends would spin them around, and around. It literally felt like the earth was beginning to spin faster and faster below me. I tried to take a breath in, but found that my lungs felt like they were closing up. Oh God, was I having an allergic reaction to the Iced Tea or something? What the hell had my brother put in it?

I began to freak out. What if I was going into anaphylactic shock? What if I died? No one would find me until the morning, or at least until the bus came by, but by then it could be too late! I began to wrack my brain; was I actually allergic to anything? I couldn't remember, although that could just be my brain starting to have a panic attack, and not letting me remember anything.

My breath was coming out in short bursts, and I was starting to hyperventilate. _No, no, no, no_. I could feel my eyes beginning to get heavy. _Oh God, I'm dying_. I tried to will my legs to move, or to scream to do _anything!_ But my body refused to obey my will. As I could feel the last of my strength leaving my body, the voice in my head started screaming bloody murder.

 _No, no, no, no, no no no no no no nonononononononononono!_

Everything went black.

* * *

I tasted dirt.

My lips, which felt cracked and dry, began to struggle to spit out what I was almost two-hundred percent sure was dirt out of my mouth. I could feel small bits of grass, and what I guessed could be pebbles and grit in my mouth, as well. It tasted awful, and I gagged. The sudden movement caused me to open one eye, and then the other. It took my gaze a second to adjust, as my face was being almost directly hit by sunlight. I lifted my head slowly, hardly daring to move or breathe. I had never been so scared in my life. Where the hell was I? My heart was thudding against my rib cage, and my throat felt tight. I had now raised my head entirely, and could take in my surroundings. What I saw made me want to start screaming again.

I had absolutely no idea where I was.

It looked like a forest, similar to the ones bordering my hometown; similar to the ones that I had never actually ventured into before – at least not since I was probably five or six. I seemed to be laying in what appeared to be a small clearing, and the trees towered above me. At first glance, I could've really thought that I had just been dumped somewhere near my home.

That is, if it hadn't been a completely different season, wherever I was.

It had been late March when I had left the house, but wherever the fuck I was now was clearly autumn, or some variant of that. The leaves that still clung to the trees were gold, red and brown, and the forest floor I now lay upon felt crunchy and kind of dead. I sat up slowly, each vertebrae at a time, until my back was ramrod straight. I was not fully sitting up, and hands keeping me up, and my legs out straight in front of me. Beside me, out of the corner of my eye, I could see my backpack was with me still, which I would have found odd, if I wasn't currently about to have a panic attack.

I was in the middle of the forest. I had no idea where I was, or how I got there. I had potentially drank some Iced Tea that my stupid brother might've laced with some kind of hallucinogen just to screw with me. Or maybe someone had hit me over the head at the bus stop and kidnapped me? But, if they had kidnapped me, why did I still have all my stuff? Why was my body cut and abrasion free? Why did I still feel in perfect health, other than still having the taste of dirt in my mouth? Why, why, _why?!_

I was lost, I was alone, and I felt like a little girl again. I felt scared, angry, and confused. I whipped out my phone, unlocking it to check if I could find out where I was. I had no bars, no service. Nothing.

Nothing.

I should have told myself to calm down. I should have gotten up off my butt, and tried to look around to see if I could find my bearings. I should have checked to make sure I was in fact intact, and that none of my stuff was stolen. I should have anything other than what I did next. I opened my mouth as wide as I could.

" _FUCK!_ "

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 **A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! I wanted to establish Kayla as a character first before I got into anything more with her story. I really hope I was able to convey the feelings of terror when she realizes something is wrong. I kind of based it off of what having a panic attack feels like – tightness in lungs, shortness of breath, etc. Anyway, more to come ASAP! R &R, please!**


	2. The Wanderer's part is to Ride Alone

**A/N:** **Hey, all. I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. I will keep this brief, but essentially what I am trying to accomplish in this chapter, is to really convey the feeling of the sheer terror, helplessness, and confusion that Kayla would experience in such a situation, and how one who has barely seen the light of day would handle being stuck in a forest. In addition, yes she will have some luck with some of the things she has with her in her bag, but that will only last for so long. I hope I am able to do so successfully. Read on, enjoy, and R &R, please! **

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**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Two:**

 **The Wanderer's part is to Ride Alone**

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The first night was the worst.

I spent the better part of an hour curled up in a ball sobbing on the forest floor. I then spent the next while, perhaps another hour, I did not know, walking in circles, swearing both under my breath, and screaming it into the trees. I tore at my hair, pulled at my clothes, screamed, yelled, begged, bargained, and eventually tired myself out. I felt like a fucking toddler, screaming until I was either red or blue in the face, and exhausting myself to the point that I needed a nap.

Once I had calmed down after a few more hysterical outbursts, I finally managed to pick myself up off the ground, and force myself to move. Before I went anywhere, I carefully opened my backpack, checking to make sure that nothing had been taken. To my surprise, and relief, everything still seemed to be there. I was especially happy to see my laptop and wallet, as well as my toiletry kit. If I was going to be saved, hopefully soon, by paramedics or foresters or something, I wanted to at least have the opportunity to make myself a little more presentable. My only regret was not having brought an extra change of clothes with me in my pack. Not that I could have known that I was going to be knocked out and tossed into an unfamiliar wood, but still.

As I said, the first night was by far the worst. I had eventually decided to wander downhill for a bit, since I was in no way dressed to be hiking through a mountainous forest in the shoes I had chosen to wear before all this began. I was very grateful for my hoodie and leggings, especially when the sun began to go down, and I realized just how much colder it was going to be that night. Wherever I was, it definitely didn't feel like late March, when the world was just starting to get a little warmer. If anything, it felt more like late October, or even early November. It wasn't freezing yet, but it certainly wasn't warm enough for me to be discarding any clothing, or wandering around in just my skirt without my leggings.

The sun was just disappearing behind the tree tops when I found the river. It was massive, at least one hundred feet in width, maybe more, and it stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions. I had been able to hear the thing when I had first awoken, and knew that, if I could find water, maybe I would be able to find some kind of civilization.

Now, seeing how big the river was in both directions, I felt a little disheartened. No matter which way I looked, I couldn't see anything for what I figured was several kilometers. I dug around in my bag and found my glasses, and jammed them on my face so I could see farther a little better. I'm not blind, but I have some trouble seeing distances, especially when it's darker out, so I was thankful that whoever had dumped me out here hadn't broken my only means to see farther away.

I squinted in both directions, trying to get some kind of bearing, but was unsuccessful. I had only been camping once in my entire life when I was twelve, and I had hated it. I had little to no survival skills, and had no idea how to survive in the wilderness. At this point, I was pretty sure that I wouldn't be rescued tonight, so I was going to have to figure out what I was going to do for both food, sleep, and shelter. I ended up choosing to follow the river in the direction it was flowing. Maybe it would eventually lead somewhere, and right now, I had nothing left to lose.

I walked for what felt like hours, before my legs were about ready to give out under me. I am not a very athletic person; I am by no means over-weight, but I have the cardio abilities of an eighty year old woman, or overweight three year old. I made sure to keep my pace at an even clip, taking heart not to tire myself out too badly. I mentally thanked myself for bringing a bottle of water with me. I obsessively drink water every day; sometimes up to three 350ml bottles. It's good for you, and I knew that. I had dry skin sometimes, and I knew water would help. Sadly for me now, all I had was one 350ml bottle to sustain me for God knows how long.

I eventually decided to try to set up some kind of camp for the evening, but I was so tired, sore, and upset to really concentrate on anything else other than throwing down my stupidly heavy backpack, and collapsing onto the rocky, sandy ground at the water's edge. I was so out of it that I didn't even have the energy to start freaking out about all the bugs, and potentially spiders, that could be crawling all over me and into my clothes as I lay there. I was also too on edge to feel hungry, and it wasn't long before I drifted into a fitful sleep, my backpack under my head as a makeshift pillow, and my hoodie wrapped around me like a blanket.

* * *

I was amazed I hadn't frozen to death the previous night, and I awoke with a huge crick in my neck, and my muscles were stiffer than they had been in years. I sat up, grumbling to myself, as the memories of the previous night's events hit me like a wave. I sat there, blinking against the early morning sun, trying to shield my eyes weakly. I had gotten maybe four or five hours of sleep and, if it was even possible, I felt even worse than I had when I had first woken up in the forest.

I did my best to stretch out my muscles, and relieve some of the pain in my neck by twisting my head around, and rolling it from side to side, before I forced myself to get up. _Note to self_ , I thought, _make a freaking fire tonight_. I started to slowly gather myself together, and was about to head out again, and keep walking downriver, when the reality of it all hit me like a freight train, and I sank back down onto the rocky, sandy, and now wet ground.

Before I could stop it, sobs began to wrack my body, and I sat there, huddled with my knees to my chest, my backpack and hoodie laying discarded on the ground next to me. I cried, and cried, and between sobs I yelled up at the sky that it wasn't fair that I was here. What had I done to deserve this? Why was I stranded in the middle of a vast expanse of trees, hills, rivers, and mountains? Had I been drugged and kidnapped? Was this a reality show prank? Did my family know I was gone? _Where the fuck was I?!_

"Okay, Kayla," I croaked. It sounded weird to hear the sound of my own voice, seeming so oddly calm after my most recent hysterical outburst. "You need to get a grip. No amount of crying is going to fix this situation." I knew my words were meant to be comforting, but at this moment, they were anything but. I felt my anxiety tug at me again, and my chest constricted. What if I can't get home? What if I die out here? My family would never have closure – they would always wonder what happened to me, and where I had gone, or how I had died. I whimpered again, holding my knees closer, crushing them into my chest and ribcage.

"If this is some sick joke, it isn't funny anymore!" I yelled out into the cold, still morning air. I was greeted yet again with silence, and it frustrated me. I wished that I had better control over my anxiety, and that I could be stronger than this. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and brain, from losing it again. "You've made it this far, Kayla," I told myself, trying to keep my voice under control. I felt the lump in my throat threaten to form again, but I swallowed it down furiously. "Sitting here in a ball crying like a little bitch is _not_ going to help you get out of this mess, or find help." I forced myself to let go of my knees. I squeezed my eyes tight shut once more and whispered, "Okay, okay, okay," before forcing myself to get up.

"There you go; good job," I congratulated myself for standing, brushing dust, dirt, and sand off my legs and butt. I stretched once more, before jamming my glasses back on my face, and looking around. _I should really keep following the river_ , I thought, as I gathered my things together. As I did, my stomach grumbled loudly, and I faltered. I hadn't eaten in what had probably been about twenty-four hours now, and it was only in that moment that I realized just how hungry I was. Now that I had calmed, my other senses were starting to make themselves known. But what could I eat? I wasn't entirely enamoured with the idea of trying to find some kind of berry or mushroom in the woods, as I had no idea what was poisonous, and what was not. I began to rummage around in my backpack again, looking for my water bottle. If anything, a human being can survive longer without food than without water. I was lucky that the river I was following seemed to fresh water, so if I ran out of water in my bottle, as much as I didn't really like the idea of drinking unfiltered river water, at least I had something to help sustain me for now.

My hand hit something in my bag, and my heart leapt. _The casserole!_ For what felt like the first time in ages, I felt a glimmer of hope. I had completely forgotten that my Dad had given me the leftovers from the night before, and I still had them with me! I tore the container filled with the leftover casserole from my backpack, and ripped off the lid. I dug around my bag until I found the fork I had tossed in it as well. I then greedily dug into the casserole, shoveling as much as I could into my face. After a few quick, and probably very unladylike bites, I tried to slow myself. I knew if I ate too fast, I could make myself sick, and end up eating too much. This casserole had to last me for however long I was going to be stuck out here, as did my water. I ate only a few more bites, before stowing it back in my bag, and getting ready to keep moving. After having eaten something, I felt considerably better, and even my spirits seemed to lift a little bit. I now understood the meaning of comfort food.

After quickly brushing my teeth (let me stress again, thank _God_ I still had my toiletry kit with me, even if I would eventually run out of the things inside, and my toothbrush would wear down) I was ready to keep going. I cracked my fingers, neck, and back, and set out again. I continued walking alongside the river, taking care to squint as far ahead as I could, trying to strain to see some kind of civilization, but always coming up with nothing.

The second day was going a little bit better than the first, but not by much. I felt better with some food in my belly, and the water I had kept me hydrated, but the constant thought that I was going to have to sleep outside again that night kept nagging at me. I had found a spider on my hoodie that morning, and nearly started having another huge panic attack, coupled with the one I had already been having. Have I mentioned how much I _detest_ spiders? I know what they do for the environment is a great thing and all, but that didn't make them any less creepy. They can do their business wherever they want, as long as they don't do it anywhere near me. If they do, and I find them, and I'm not too much of a wuss, they will almost always die. In this case, I had panicked, and shook my hoodie vigorously, and I am pretty sure the thing had been launched into the air, and maybe even into the river. The thought of spending another night outside in the cold, bug infested forest gave me small bursts of anxiety.

The sun was beginning to set again when I decided to do my best to make another spot to sleep, except this time, I was going to do it right. I wasn't as exhausted as I had been the previous night, but I was still tired, and knew I had only maybe another hour of sunlight to actually make something worth sleeping in, by, or around. Have I mentioned how incredibly _dark_ it gets at night where I was? I knew I couldn't be too close to any kind of city, since at night, it really was pitch black. There was no signs of light pollution anywhere, and that discouraged me a little bit more. But, I tried to remain as calm as I could, and told myself that I would find someone, or something, eventually. Even if it was just one of those towers on the tops of mountains to stop planes from crashing into them, at least it would be something. Maybe I could even find a phone, and try to call someone!

The first thing I wanted to do was to try to get a fire going. Maybe if I could get some smoke up into the air, a helicopter might fly by and see it, especially if someone was out looking for me, which by now, I really hoped someone was. I had one problem, however: I had never made a fire before in my life. I didn't know what kind of wood or rock was needed to get a fire going, and I had no idea how to maintain one, other than just by continuously adding wood. If only I had a magnifying glass; but even then, the sun was too low in the sky for me to get a clear ray to use to light a fire anyway.

As I was sitting there, feeling a little sorry for myself, and wondering how on earth I was going to make a fire, a thought occurred to me. A thought that, until now, had eluded me. I grabbed for my backpack, and tore it open. _It has to still be here_ , I thought, as I frantically searched through my things. I opened all the little side pouches in the bag, until…

"Aha!" I cried out triumphantly, my hand closing over the small, cool plastic of a lighter. I pulled it out of my bag, relishing in the bright, 70's design on it. I had stolen the lighter from my brother a few months back, because I had bought some new candles, and wanted to lite them in my room. I guess I had forgotten to give it back, and put it in my bag to use for my candles at my Mother's house, as well. Thank God my brother was a chronic smoker, and always had several lighters laying around. I gleefully ran my thumb over the top, and felt a huge smile appear on my face as it lit.

"Let there be light!" I cheered happily. Now all I had to do was find some wood, and I'd be in business! I left my bag on the shore, and scurried into the ever darkening woods, grabbing as much dead, dry wood and leaves as I could find, and carry. After having success in finding some fuel for my fire, and fighting off another particularly big spider on a stick I found, I ran back to the shore to where my stuff was. I eagerly stacked the wood in a neat pile, and placed some big rocks around it, as I had seen done in movies and cartoons. Once that was done, I was left standing there, staring at it, and I realized I had no idea what to do next. Did I just light a stick and try to catch the others on fire, too? I figured that was my best bet, and knelt down, holding my lighter in one hand, and a stick in the other. I brought the tip of the stick to the top of the lighter, where the little flame was now glowing, and gently touched it.

The flame was instantly smothered.

I frowned, narrowing my eyes at the stick. I flicked the lighter on again, and tried a second time to get the stick to light. No dice; the flame went out again. I huffed in exasperation, and tried a third, and even fourth time. How the hell could one person be so bad at trying to light a goddamn stick on fire?! Finally, on my fifth attempt to get the stupid stick to light, it took, and I saw a bit of smoke start coming off the end of it. I excitedly blew out the lighter, and gently lowered the stick to my pile of wood and dry leaves. Lucky for me, the leaves took first, and pretty soon, I could see smoke forming around the woods as well. It took maybe ten minutes, but finally I was starting to seem small flames. Just in time, too, since the sun was now below the mountains and forests, and daylight was beginning to fade.

As I carefully stoked my now slowly growing fire, I glanced towards the river. I hadn't bathed now in two days, and even though that isn't a horrifically long amount of time, I was starting to feel a little gross. I hadn't washed my hair either, and I could definitely start to feel the dirt and grime starting to attach itself to it. I thought about dunking myself in the river to try and get some of the crap off of my body, but hesitated.

See, what people don't tell you about getting stranded in the woods, is that you no longer have the comforts of home with you to keep you sane. At that moment, my hair, which I had left loose do to its shortness (I can barely get it into even a small ponytail) had been straightened with my hair straightener, or flat iron. Granted, I had the thing with me in my bag, but nowhere to plug it in. I have naturally _very_ curly, kinky, and wavy hair, and it is an unruly mess on my best hair days. I had started straightening my hair every day back when I was about thirteen, and had never looked back. As I watched the water flowing by, I had the mental image of some mountaineers finding me stranded, and my hair being a giant, poufy mess. I cringed at the thought. Say what you will about me, as a girl, sometimes my thoughts drifted to trivial matters such as how I would look if I met someone out here, or was rescued. I would no doubt end up on the evening news, and I would be damned if I looked like a drowned rat, or was electrocuted. I ended up coming to the conclusion that I would attempt to clean off my body only, and let my hair continue to be straight and relatively tameable, until such a time that it was so gross and greasy that I had to douse myself in the freezing river water, or else I would pull my hair out, one strand at a time.

With my fire now in almost full roar, I stripped down to my underclothes, leaving my leggings, skirt, and shirt folded on top of my backpack. I inches my way down to the shoreline, standing by the edge of the water, staring at it. I could feel my skin's natural oils practically mocking me as I stood there, staring at the shimmering expanse. I ground my teeth, trying to supress their chatter. Dang, was it ever getting _cold!_ I slowly extended one leg, and my toe dipped into the water. I hissed instantly, retracting my toe as the freezing water enveloped it. This was not going to be fun.

I thought about taking a running start, but then there was the danger of getting my hair wet, which I was not yet comfortable with doing. So, I had to make the slow, agonizing descent into the water one foot at a time, and I hated every second of it. When I was about up to my knees, I began to question notions of personal hygiene, wondering if it was even worth potentially giving myself a cold or frostbite from wading into this frozen hell. When I was up to my waist, I started using every swear and insult I knew, and threw them at myself. When I was up to my chest, and the freezing water began to soak my bra, and came in contact with my breasts, I let out a small gasp. It felt like an icicle had been plunged into my front, and it hurt to breathe in. I clenched my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut for what felt like the millionth time that day, and dunked myself into the water so it was up to my neck.

I gasped, pulling myself out of the water, and hurriedly wiped down my arms and chest, before slowly making my way back to shore, rubbing down my legs and other parts of my body as I did. I made it to shore and, feeling a little cleaner now, hurried back over to the fire, where I sat myself down on the sand, and attempted to let my body dry. I had no towel, and didn't really want to use my clothes to dry myself off, since I would then have nothing to wear, so I grit my teeth and bore it, waiting for my body to dry a little more from the fire before clothing myself again. I took care to take off my bra and underwear, so I was not stark naked on a beach, in the dark, in the middle of an unknown forest, and completely alone. I tried not to think about it as I carefully hung my bra and underwear to dry on a large stick I had stuck into the ground earlier. With any luck, they would be dry thanks to the fire in an hour or so, and then I would have some warmer clothes to wear when I slept that night.

I took out the casserole again, and dug into a bit more of it. It was about halfway gone when I had finished eating, and I gulped back a bit more water. I had managed to ration my water bottle relatively well, but still only had about a quarter of it left. Pretty soon I was going to have to resort to drinking river water. I shuddered at the thought. Gross. I knew I wasn't getting enough water into my system, since I had had a headache for most of the day. If I wanted to keep from making myself ill, I was going to have to start drinking a lot more water, and soon.

* * *

On the third day, I awoke slowly, feeling the early morning sun hitting me in the face again. I had slept a little bit better that night than the previous, but not by much. I still had the crick in my neck, and the pain in my lower back, but I had gotten maybe six hours of sleep this time instead of four or five. I was amazed at how long I had managed to stay asleep. I usually slept with earplugs, but since ending up here, I obviously couldn't. I actually found that the sound of the river, and the wind in the trees had helped lull me to sleep, surprisingly. Don't get me wrong, I didn't enjoy sleeping on the rocky, sandy ground one bit, but at least I was able to get some rest.

I doused the remains of my fire pit, packed up my things, and set out once again. I continued to follow the river as the morning sun began to lift into the sky. I had to admit, despite not knowing where I was, not having much food left, and being stiff and sore, the forest and river really were quite beautiful. This area did look a little like my home, but somehow different at the same time. I definitely felt like I recognized bits and pieces here and there, but I figured that was probably because it looked like the forests surrounding my hometown, and nothing more.

I came around a bend in the river, and stopped short, staring in shock, and also horror. In the distance, I could see what distinctly looked like water spraying up high, and a huge rock jutted up from the middle of the river…

Cutting it off as it turned into a huge waterfall.

I sank to the ground. No, this wasn't good. The river ended here? How far down were the falls? I could hear the roar of the water, maybe two or three hundred feet away from me. I knew by the sounds of the waterfall that it was probably pretty huge. I sighed inwardly – now I was going to have to climb all the way down the mountain, wasn't I?

I began to trudge forwards, when I paused. _Wait a second_ , I thought, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion _, There aren't any huge waterfalls near my town!_ I froze, feeling the sickening sense of fear beginning to grip me. How far away was I? I was beginning to panic again when I heard it. My heart skipped a beat; it was unmistakable.

A clang of metal on metal.

No. No way. I must have been going insane. I had gone three days in this godforsaken wood without any hope of human contact, and now, after I was starting to give up hope, I hear _this?_ I must have been losing my mind. I was convinced I had finally succumbed to the stress of being left to die in a strange forest.

Until I heard it again, coupled with the distinct sounds of voices in the distance.

My heart leapt up into my mouth. Oh my God, oh my God. I started to run, not caring about how much my aching muscles began to protest, and how my head continued to pound. I had done it! I had finally found people! And, judging by the sounds of the voice and clanging of metal, it sounded almost like a camp of some kind – maybe oil rigs? Or engineer workers? Either way, I had never been so excited in my life. I didn't even care that I probably looked like a tired, walking corpse!

The sounds sounded to be coming from somewhere to my right, and forward a bit more, farther into the forest. I was curious as to why these people would be so far into the woods, but I tried not to think about it, as I climbed over fallen logs, scrambled up hills, and tumbled over rocks to try and get to my destination. The voices and sounds of clanging metal were getting louder as I began to crest a small hill in a particularly dense part of the wood. As I got to the top of it, another sound filled my ear, and for some reason, it sounded oddly familiar. It sounded three times, small and sharp.

It was a horn.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter of** _ **Journey to a Curious Place!**_ **This one was a lot longer than I had anticipated; Kayla's thoughts and surroundings kind of took over after a bit there. I am rather happy with the result; I wanted to test my ability to use little to no dialogue for as long as I could, and give Kayla more personality. But seriously, has any Mary-Sure story** _ **ever**_ **tackled what it would be like for a girl in Middle-Earth who doesn't have naturally straight or curly hair? You can imagine how some will react upon seeing how different Kayla will look when she can't complete her daily beauty regiment… R &R, please!**


	3. How to save a Life

**A/N:** **Well, I am sure you can all guess what's going to happen now. You can see part of it coming, but not all of it, I can assure you of that! Plot twists, away! Enjoy!**

 **Also for those you that don't knowing, LARPing is short for "Live Action Role Play" – literally is what the name suggests: people dress up, and Role Play in real life. It's great, and I will do it one day.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Three:**

 **How to save a Life**

* * *

It was a horn.

As I crested the hill I paused, straining my ears to listen. I couldn't yet see where the sound of the horn was coming from, but I almost certain I had heard it correctly. I couldn't see who or what was making the clanging sound of metal and metal yet, either. As I squinted through the trees, I thought I saw movement in the distance; dark shapes flitting through the wood.

Only when I heard the sound of the horn again, did I continue forward, making my way slowly down the hill, taking care not to slip on the fallen, dead leaves, or allow my feet to get snagged by overgrown roots. As I stumbled forward, and began to climb yet another hill in the wood, I could hear the distinct sounds of voice, and clashing metal. It was in that moment that I knew I hadn't imagined any of it, and I felt my spirits lift. At any moment, I would ascend to the top of the hill and, hopefully be greeted with the sight of a logging camp, or perhaps oil rig. Anything would be better to see than just more forest.

Anything, that is, than the actual sight I was greeted with.

As I came to the top of the hill, I took one last look at the empty, quiet forest behind me. I felt a huge grin split across my face. This would be the last time I would ever see the forest this empty again, and be subjugated to sleeping on the rocky, sandy ground, and forced to spend days at a time alone. As I took one last look at the hollow, vast wood, I felt a twinge of pain in my left eye. I winced, and moved to rub my index along my temple. I could feel the onsets of a migraine beginning again, and made a mental note to ask one of the workers if any of them had any Advil once I had settled in. I usually got migraines when I hadn't slept well, or drank enough water, but in the last three days they had been exponentially worse. Climate change, maybe? It certainly did feel a little muggier out here, and that could sometimes cause me to get headaches. I grumbled to myself, continuing to massage the sides of my head as I began to turn around to look down the hill, expecting to see trucks, workers, and maybe rigs.

I froze. I didn't see rigs. I didn't see trucks. I didn't even see workers.

I _did_ see people, however. Although, as I stared down the hill, a bubble of fear beginning to grow in my chest, I wasn't even sure the things I was looking at even _were_ people.

I mean, from a distance they _looked_ human – all were big, bigger than the average person I would say, and broader, but definitely humanoid. They had two arms, two legs, a chest, and a head. But something seemed _wrong_. There were a lot of them, too. From what I could see from my spot at the top of the hill, I could count maybe up to twenty before I lost track. And maybe it was the fact that the forest was much darker than the shore by the river, but these "people" looked like moving shadows to me. What they wore was all black, and muddy looking, and their skin was the same colour, as was their hair. They all just looked like big, walking shadows. I didn't know why, but I felt really nervous, as I watched them from where I was not more so hiding, than waiting. I couldn't place it, but I didn't feel the least bit safe, as I watching them move through the trees. They all seemed to be moving in unison, like a small army. Had I stumbled across some weird military camp? I couldn't quite place it as well, however, as to why these… Whatever they were… Seemed sort of familiar to me. Had I seen some kind of documentary on television before about weird military practices?

That was when I heard the horn blast again, three times over, and it sounded much closer. I glanced to my right, and squinted through the trees. I could still hear the distant clanging of metal on metal, somewhere in the trees. Below me, the weird dark shapes were moving in the direction of the horn blasts, and the sounds of clashing metal. Maybe I really had stumbled across some weird camp ground – were they in the middle of a training exercise? I wondered if that was the horn I was hearing: the end of an exercise, or the beginning of one.

I scurried along the top of the hill, trying to keep out of sight of the "people" below me, but at the same time following along, wanting to see where the horn was coming from. As I followed, the sounds I kept hearing were drawing nearer and nearer, and I could feel my heart starting to speed up, as excitement, and curiosity, began to bubble up inside me. I began to run uphill again, and knew that, by the time I reached the top of the hill, I would finally see what was making all that noise. Below me, I could hear the thumping of whatever those guys were, as they trudged through the woods, as well.

I finally reached the top of the hill, and the second sigh that met my eyes only filled me with more confusion.

Back home, wherever _home_ was at this point, there's this really popular tourist attraction called _Medieval Times_. Basically, you go, are fed dinner, and get to watched choreographed jousting and sword fights. The entire theme is always fantasy/medieval, and there are "princesses", "knights", and "kings". The whole thing is inside a giant indoor stadium, and it's set up to look like a medieval theme park of sorts. The actors and actresses are always in character, and they walk around in traditional medieval garb, and talk in really bad British accents, while carrying swords and shields. I was even knighted one year.

Now, and let me stress this as much as I can, I was about nighty-nine point night percent sure that I was _nowhere_ near civilization at this point, let alone a _Medieval Times_ restaurant and tournament grounds. The reason I was about point one percent sure I had either completely lost my mind, or stumbled across some remote, _Medieval Times_ training grounds, was because of the scene that now lay before me at the base of the hill. I was pretty much one hundred percent sure at this point that I had gone completely insane.

The first thing I noticed was that there was no military encampment, or camp of any kind. There were no rigs, no oil, no workers, and _certainly_ no signs of any kind of civilization that I could see. Or any kind of modern _anything_ for that matter. Instead, all the "people" I had seen before seemed to be congregating in one spot, and swinging around what looked to me –wait, were those weapons? I stared in shock. From what I could see, these… Creatures; they had to be some kind of creature. The way they moved, well, _lumbered_ would be a better word to use, seemed unlike any human movement I had ever seen.

Now, what was making the incessant _clanging_ sound, you might ask? Well, that would be the second thing I rested my gaze on as I looked down the hill.

The clanging noise, the one I had heard from so far away, was coming from the man in the clearing at the bottom of the hill. He had in his hand something that – no, it couldn't be. Was that a fucking _sword?_ Another _clang_ brought my inner freak out to a startling halt, as the man raised what I was now one hundred percent sure was a _huge freaking sword_ up in the air, and blocked what looked like an oncoming attack from one of the black armored things down there with him.

I was at a total and complete loss for words, thoughts, and reactions. My mind was reeling. What the hell had I found? Was I watching some kind of weird club meeting? A live action DnD thing; or maybe a LARPing group? Or maybe a –

My thoughts were cut off when the man down in the clearing with the sword suddenly reached down onto his belt, and pulled something off. It only took me a second to realize that it was a horn when he suddenly blew into it again. I stared at him in both confusion and awe. The horn, from what I could see, was white, with a dark trim, and curved, like a classic Viking horn, and he wore a dark black and burgundy tunic, like one you would see in something like _The Elder Scrolls Series_ , or a fantasy movie, or book.

Or a book.

I went rigid. Something in my brain started going haywire. This forest, this place. This _scene_. The people in black armor; the man with the horn. The waterfall with the huge, jutting rock in the center. The – the… No.

No way. No goddamn way.

I whirled away from the scene unfolding below me in the clearing. I tried to block out the sounds of metal on metal, of the now very apparent yelling from both the man, and the things in black. I even thought I heard a sound that reminded me of a pig squealing. I tried to block it all out. I rested my back on a nearby tree, and let myself sink onto the forest floor, my head in my hands. My headache was getting steadily worse, and I screwed up my face, trying to block out all noise.

 _You're imagining this, Kayla!_ I yelled at myself. _There is no fucking way you are where you think you are! This is all just a hallucination from the lack of water and food in your system, or panicked shock brought on by your migraine. This. Isn't. REAL!_

Suddenly a noise split through the air. It was unmistakable, though I had never heard it in real life myself, I knew that sound anywhere. It was the sound of an arrow whizzing through the forest, and making contact with something. I felt my blood turn to ice, as the sounds of the man in the clearing abruptly stopped, and I heard what could only be a strangled gasp. I scrambled to my feet, and carefully peeked around the tree that I was hiding behind.

Down in the clearing, I saw two things: one, there was a _really_ big guy in the black armor, without a helmet, and long, gnarly looking dreadlocks. In his huge, clawed, hand, he carried a large, black bow, and the string was still vibrating from when he had shot an arrow. The second thing I saw made me want to both scream and throw up at the same time. The man down in the clearing now had an arrow protruding from his left shoulder, and he was on one knee, apparently still in shock from being shot. I could see a small splotch of blood already starting to form on the front of his tunic. As I watched him stagger to his feet, and begin swinging once again at the creatures racing around him, I saw the big one begin to draw back its bow once again.

What I did next, I am not entirely proud of.

See, I've always had really, really shitty aim. I don't play sports very often, if ever. I mean, the last time I did was when I was maybe twelve or thirteen? I couldn't even remember. I have really bad hand-eye coordination, and terrible cardio, as I so sadly discovered after being dumped out in the woods. The most exercise I get is doing some mild strength training in my bedroom, by myself, maybe three times a week. I throw like I have a bad arm, and I can't run more than one hundred feet without becoming winded. As I said, I am not over weight, I am just really, _really_ lazy on my good days. So, that all being said, the next ten seconds were not one of my finer moments.

Without even thinking, I grabbed the biggest rock I could find (maybe around the size of my fist) and hurled it down the hill at the huge guy with the bow, right as he was about to let the arrow fly.

"Hey, asshole! Over here!" Like I said, not my proudest moment, or smartest.

The rock didn't hit him, but it certainly startled him, and it threw off his aim. His second arrow flew right by the man with the sword, and instead imbedded itself in a tree, rather than in the man's chest, or other shoulder. Upon realizing that someone had thrown something at it, the big, black armored thing slowly lowered his bow, and began to turn in my direction. That was when I got a really good look at its face.

It was like the stuff nightmares are made of. I have never once been regretful of wearing my glasses to see distances, but in that moment, I wished I had the balls to snap them in half. I could see every damn detail in that thing's face, and I swear it would haunt my dreams for longer than I wanted.

The skin was unnaturally black, much like the hair and armor, and I could see, as it stared directly up the hill to where I was still trying to peek from around the tree, its tiny, beady, disgustingly yellow eyes. I also saw small, sharp, rotted looking fangs as it open its mouth and let out a loud roar of anger at being interrupted from evidently killing the man. At this point, I was absolutely terrified, and had no idea what to do, other than perhaps run. But something else inside me took over, and instead, I reached for another rock.

This time the rock actually hit the monster now glaring up the hill at me. It hit him right in the chest, and bounced off, not seeming to affect him whatsoever, and, much to my horror, it began to slowly climb the hill.

Straight for me.

I panicked. I had no idea what to do. I had no means to defend myself against whatever the hell this thing was, and even if I did, I'd have no idea how to use a sword or bow.

As I prepared to start sprinting away from the monster that was nearly upon me now, I could hear the man down below begin fighting again, seemingly with a renewed vigour. I could hear him cutting down more of those creatures, and knew that I had at least bought him some time. I leapt to my feet, and raced around the other side of the tree, heading down the hill, and away from the thing now hell bent on killing me, I assumed. I had never been so scared in my entire life, and I wasn't about to stay up there and wait for it to get to me.

As I tore down the hill, towards the man fighting, I noticed that the waves of creatures in black had started to stem. I didn't know why they seemed to be running away now. Surely thirty-plus of these guys could take on one dude, right? Or did they have a different reason for running away?

Suddenly, something whizzed over my head, and I let out a shriek of surprise and terror. I glanced back over my shoulder, and saw the huge guy now at the top of the hill, his bow aimed towards me. Fear filled me like a rising tide, and I began to run towards the other side of the clearing, where I was certain a group of fallen logs would provide good coverage against the thing, and maybe give me a chance to hide.

I skidded and leapt over the logs, throwing myself behind them, and getting down on the ground as low as I could, to try and keep myself hidden. I tried to swallow my fear, as I heard another, albeit now exhausted sounding, bellow from the man fighting off these creatures. I peered over the top of the logs, and saw that the big guy was still slowly descending the hill, probably looking for me, which I was a little thankful for. He seemed to have turned his attention away from the man fighting, and was now distracted. I was about to get up and hurry farther away, in a vain attempt to keep baiting him, and maybe throw more rocks, when two startled cries filled my ears.

I whirled around and, to my left and in the distance, I saw two small shapes being picked up by the other black armored beings. From a distance, they looked like two small children, and they were being thrown over the shoulders of these creatures, and taken away into the forest. I started forwards, not knowing what to do.

No sooner had these two smaller people been taken away into the woods by the creatures in black armor, did they others suddenly begin to retreat. That was when I realized it: they had most likely been distracting the man with the horn to get to the two smaller people! The man with the horn has just cut down what looked to be the last of the creatures in the clearing when I cried out to him.

"They're taking the little people!" I yelled, jumping up from behind the logs, and waving my arms. "That way! They grabbed them!" I pointed frantically, not knowing what else to do. The man with the horn whipped around, seemingly just noticing me, and his grey eyes held mine for a moment, before his already paling face became more sallow. He began to turn in the direction where I was pointing and, upon realizing I was right in that the two smaller people had been taken, began to charge forward with a cry of anger.

It was then I noticed the big guy again, and this time his bow was aiming at the man again. Aiming to kill.

"Look out!" I screamed, trying to get his attention again, and the man's head snapped in my direction, but he was one second too late, and I heard the _zing_ as the arrow was released. I felt my breath hitch, but exhaled quickly when the arrow missed him again. It was then that I noticed the big guy had been knocked over onto the ground. It took me a second to realize that he had been body-checked by another man, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and taken him to the ground in a tackle.

I couldn't make out the other man's face, but he began to struggle with the creature. My attention, however, was on the man with the horn, and the _very_ obvious arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He had slumped down against a nearby tree, and was evidently in a lot of pain. I could see the red stain had gotten a lot larger on his front. I was barely aware of other voices coming in the distance, as I scurried out from behind the fallen logs, and approached the man, who was breathing very shallowly, and his eyes were screwed up in pain. As I knelt down beside him, I could tell by his face that this wasn't an act: he really had been shot. As I stared at him, he opened his eyes to look at me, and I saw the confusion, remorse, and delirium in them.

"They took the little ones," he grunted, his voice hoarse with pain. He had a form of British accent, I noted absently, though not one I could easily place. Northern, maybe?

I had no idea what to say accept, "Don't move; you've been shot." It was such a lame, obvious thing to say, but it was the only thing I could think of at that moment. I had no idea if this man was going to make it, and it terrified me. I had never seen someone die before, and I really hoped I wasn't going to have to now. Sure, I had training in First-Aid and Lifeguarding, but none of it prepared me for if someone was shot with a fucking _arrow_.

"Frodo," he rasped, his eyes unfocused from the pain, and his hand shaking as he reached out to grip my arm, "Where is Frodo?"

"Frodo?" I said slowly, my lips forming the name with ease, and confusion.

That was when it all hit me at once like a mother fucking tsunami.

Frodo.

The One Ring.

The Quest.

The Fellowship, and –

I stared down at the man before me. I took in his black and burgundy tunic, and his grey eyes. His golden brown hair was straggly from travel, and it hung to his chin, and stubble was slowly becoming a beard. His skin was tanner than mine, and on his tunic there was what looked like an embroidered white tree.

The White Tree of Gondor. Which meant this man was…

Boromir.

And he wasn't dead. I had stopped him from being killed. I had let live a member of the Fellowship of the Ring who was supposed to die. I had now potentially drastically altered the entire plot of _The Lord of the Rings_. I felt what little colour remain in my face leave it.

Oops.

I sat back on my heels, staring at Boromir, my heart threatening to either go into cardiac arrest, or burst forth from my chest. I couldn't hear anything except the sound of is thundering in my ears, and some slight white noise in the background. I thought I heard a pig-like squeal, and then nothing, but paid it no mind. I just sat there, my eyes never leaving Boromir's face, which was still screwed up with pain.

It was real, all of it.

But why was I here? Why me? Why _now?_ I really must have had an allergic reaction to the damn casserole, and was probably either dead at the side of the road by my house at the bus stop, or laying in a bed in the hospital. Or, in some crazy stroke of luck, I had fallen through some wormhole and ended up in _Middle Fucking Earth!_

I was jolted out of my reverie when the other man who had tackled the big guy with the bow suddenly appeared at Boromir's other side. It took me a second to register that it was Aragorn, and I wanted to start screaming again. I rolled to my feet, careful not to draw any more unwanted attention to myself, and struggled to back away as silently as possible while Aragorn and Boromir spoke.

"The little ones," Boromir gasped again, while Aragorn gently helped him in to a more comfortable sitting position.

"Be still," the ranger advised, his eyes on the arrow in the other man's shoulder.

"Where is Frodo?" Boromir repeated, his eyes glazed with pain, but his voice more firm now.

There was a pause before Aragorn spoke again. I could see he was struggling to find the right words, though I knew what they would be. "I let Frodo go." He finally uttered softly, and I could see the pain in his eyes, and the confusion in Boromir's.

After a moment of silence, with only the wind in the trees, and the sound of my own heart filling my ears, Boromir spoke again, and there was shame in his voice. "Then you did what I could not…" He sounded so pained, and not just from the arrow in his shoulder. "I tried to take the Ring from him."

"The Ring is beyond our reach now." Aragorn replied, his eyes focusing on Boromir's wound as he spoke. I watched in silence from a few feet away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see two shapes moving through the trees, one lithe, and one shorter. Legolas and Gimli. The elf and dwarf raced up, and stopped short, upon seeing Boromir on the ground with the arrow wound, Aragorn kneeling by him, and me standing a few feet away looking ready to vomit or faint.

"Then you did what I could not," Boromir winced in pain as his movements irritated the wound. "I have failed you all."

"No," Aragorn said abruptly, "You fought bravely, Boromir." He then carefully helped the Gondorian sit up a little more. "We must remove this arrow, or the wound will likely fester." He proceeded to break off the shaft of the arrow, causing Boromir to grunt in pain, and my head to swim. I really hated the sight of blood. "Legolas," Aragorn turned to the elf, still now acknowledging that I stood there. "You have the herbs I gave you in Lothlórien; I need them." The elf, whose eyes rested on me for a moment, nodded once, and opened a small satchel on his hip. He produced a few small, dried herbs that vaguely reminded me of weed, and handed them to Aragorn. The ranger turned back to Boromir, who looked grave.

"You are lucky that the Orc's arrows did not have heads," Aragorn's voice was gruff and monotone. "It will, however, not minimize the pain when I pull the arrow from your shoulder. You must be still, Boromir. The herbs will help heal the wound faster." Boromir nodded once, and I had to look away as Aragorn reached down, and pulled the arrow from his shoulder. I heard the sickening _schlick_ as it was removed, and Boromir's cry of agony. I felt my stomach churn, and I had to fight off another wave of nausea.

After a few moments, the arrow had been tossed away, the herbs applied to the wound, and Boromir had been patched up as best as possible. Aragorn carefully helped him to his feet, and the two men stood in the clearing, Legolas and Gimli nearby. I had seated myself down on a log to try and calm my insides when they finally spoke to me.

Aragorn approached me first. "You are not dressed of this place," he said, matter-of-factly, "Tell me, what is your name?"

I wanted to tell them everything – that I had found myself in the wood three days before, and struggled to survive on my own. That I had heard voices and metal clashing, followed the sound, and found them. That I had unknowingly interfered with the death of a major character in _The Fellowship of the Ring_. My eyes strayed past Aragorn, and I saw the distinct body of the big guy with the bow, a huge sword in its chest now. I felt a heave. I wanted to say something; even just tell them my name.

Instead, I bent double, and threw up all over the forest floor.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you all enjoyed that chapter! I never really write a lot about combat scenes, or things such as that, but I feel it went rather well! Bad Kayla, tampering with the plot line. Such is the way of the Mary-Sue, I suppose. More to come ASAP; R &R, please!**


	4. Follow the Yellow Brick Road

**A/N:** **Now we will get into the part of the story that will not be what you expect it to be. A lot of people who write "Girl-Falls-Into-Middle-Earth" fics always make her into a Tenth Walker. I'll admit, I did that the first time I tackled a LotR fanfic using Kayla. However, that was then, and this is now, and she will** _ **not**_ **be your typical Tenth Walker, or even a Tenth Walker (or fifth in this case) for that matter. I'll make more sense soon, I promise. This chapter will consist of a lot of explanations, lies, and will be heavy on dialogue. Read on, and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Four:**

 **Follow the Yellow Brick Road**

* * *

I was sitting on the forest floor, hugging my knees to my chest. My stomach felt empty – probably because I had just vomited up the entire contents of it onto the ground, and probably because I hadn't eaten much in the last three days. My stomach acid was angry with me, and it felt like someone had hit a fire in my belly, and not in the good way. If there even is such a thing.

Aragorn was standing nearby, watching me as I hugged my knees and rocked slowly back and forth. Once I had finally managed to calm both my stomach and the rest of my body, I had managed to sputter out what I hoped was a decent story, though my attire was still puzzling to them, I could tell.

"So, you are called Kayla Harris, and you do not know how you came to this wood?" Aragorn didn't sound skeptical, but he eyed me with what I could only assume was mild suspicion.

"Yes," I said quietly, not taking my eyes off the ground in front of me. I had told them my name, and how I had woken up in the middle of the wood, with no memory of how I got there. I figured there was no sense in lying to them. If I spun a story about how I was from somewhere either _very_ North, or _very_ South, it could come back to bite me in the butt in the future, or I could slip up, and not be consistent.

When asked, I had lied that my clothing was custom, and that I knew someone from home who had a talent for making unique clothing, which wasn't entirely a lie, since I had ordered the clothes I was wearing online, and someone probably had "custom built" them. I figured I sounded like I was absolutely bat-shit crazy, and I had no idea if they were buying any of it. There was no sense in lying, however I also couldn't just tell them that, where I was from, their world was just a story. I was already some strange girl from another place, who didn't know how she got here. To tell them that they were all made up would _not_ help my case whatsoever, so I elected to leave that part out. I finished by saying that I had followed the river upon waking in the wood, and when I had heard the sounds of voices and clashing metal, I had followed it until I came across Boromir fighting the Orcs. Well, Uruk-hai, but I didn't think they knew that yet.

There was nothing now but skeptical silence, and I felt my heart begin to speed up. I had to change the topic quickly. I wasn't very good at thinking on my feet, and needed more time to come up with a better story for later, when I would inevitably be questions even further.

"I'm sorry about your friends," I said quietly to Boromir, who was standing behind Aragorn, leaning on a tree and attempting not to move his arm too much. "And I'm sorry you got shot." I added, feeling a little guilty. "I have no skills with any kind of weapon. I didn't know what to do – I just did the first thing that came to mind. If I could have done more…" My voice trailed off, and I stared apologetically at all of them.

Aragorn held up a hand, shaking his head. "Boromir tells me you threw a rock at the Orc who shot him. Despite not wounding the creature, you did distract him. Had you not done so, I fear for what may have become of Boromir." I could hear the gratefulness in his tone, despite knowing that they all probably wouldn't believe a word I'd say. If I had been wearing clothing that didn't look so modern, maybe it could have come across as more convincing. But, sadly, I wasn't, and I was going to have to be very careful in how I spoke about my home to them.

"You have my thanks," Boromir spoke softly from behind Aragorn, watching me with those piercing grey eyes. "I would be dead if not for you. I am in your debt, my Lady."

I started at the use of the term "My Lady" – I had never been called that before, and it sounded weird hearing it said aloud. "It's just Kayla, please." I said, chewing on my lip. "And don't worry about it; I'm just glad your wound isn't more severe." He nodded his head curtly once, before Legolas spoke to Aragorn.

"Aragorn, if we quicken our pace, we might yet have a chance to catch Frodo and Sam. They may have only just reached the eastern shore." It was so odd seeing as elf in real, well I suppose real-ish, life. Only seeing them on screen portrayed by actors didn't give off the same effect that seeing a real-life elf did. Legolas exuded a kind of glow, and his voice, while still sounding almost exactly like that of Orlando Bloom (which still freaked me out, seeing as these were real men, elves, and dwarves, and not Hollywood actors wearing prosthetics), had an almost melodic quality to it.

Aragorn said nothing in response to Legolas right away, and I knew why. He was beginning to contemplate going after Frodo and the Ring, and though he had already let the two hobbits go, I knew that he was still struggling internally with the decision. On the other hand, he knew that rescuing Merry and Pippin was the main priority at this point.

Legolas's face became blank at the ranger's silence. "You mean not to follow them." His voice, though asking was question, was flat, and I saw Aragorn hold the elven prince's gaze for a moment before responding.

"Frodo and Sam's fates are no longer in our hands," he said it in such a way that left no room for debate. For someone who did not want the title of king, and perhaps the burden that would come along with it, Aragorn certainly had commanding qualities about him. It was something I had always loved about his character.

As Legolas eyed Aragorn, his perfect eyebrows knitting together in confusion and worry, Gimli spoke up from nearby, his rough voice cutting through the silence, and he sounded quite melancholic.

"Then it has all been in vain," there was pain his eyes, though not as much as there could be, I reminded myself. Boromir was alive, and thusly the Fellowship only felt the loss of one at the time: Gandalf. Though, I knew the wizard would return in time, and was glad that none of them would ever have to feel genuine loss amongst their group. Aragorn turned towards the dwarf, as though wanting to say something, but Gimli continued his speech, his eyes on the rocky ground, looking depressed. "The Fellowship has failed."

Gimli came to stand beside Legolas, and the two looked at Aragorn, as though for leadership, or confirmation that all was lost. Boromir moved slowly to stand beside them, and he too looked disheartened, his expression strained.

Something seemed to come alive in Aragorn in that moment, and he began to shake his head. I felt a little awkward being there with them; as though I was intruding on some private moment, which technically I was. I shuffled myself back a bit, wanting to give them some room to speak. I knew my backpack was still up on the hill where I had looked down at the fighting, and I still had to grab it before I set out again. Though, at this point, I had no idea where that would be? Could I even ask these people to let me accompany them to wherever it was they were going? I wouldn't be of any use in any kind of fighting, though I knew that there wouldn't be much fighting again until the battle of Helm's Deep. Still, I would be inherently useless to anyone out here in the woods. I had barely survived on my own as it was. What would have happened if I hadn't run into them after three days anyway? I'd be dead. That's what would have happened, and being here in this rural, barbaric(ish) world, I may yet still die. Yay.

I was still wrestling internally with myself when Aragorn began to speak to his companions, and I perked up my ears, wanting to hear what he was going to say next.

"Not if we hold true to each other," The ranger spoke with a renewed firmness, and vigour. He placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder, trying to reassure the dwarf. Gimli looked up at the future king of Gondor, and I could see his eyes twinkle slightly. He raised his own hand, and grasped the one on his shoulder in an iron grip, looking fiercely up at the leader of the Fellowship. Aragorn spoke again. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left." His words held no room for negotiations, though I doubted at this point that anyone would try to argue with him.

Aragorn broke away from his companions, turning back in the direction I think the river was in. "Leave all that can be spared behind; we travel light. We must move quickly." He turned to look at me then, just as I was starting to back away, and return up the hill to get my backpack. "Lady Kayla, please allow me to express the gratitude of the Fellowship once again for aiding Boromir. You have the thanks of our group, and that of the people of Gondor." Behind him, Boromir nodded once, and I felt a flush come to my cheeks. I had never enjoyed being thanked for doing something that any normal person would do. Though I suppose that throwing a rock at a giant monster trying to kill someone wasn't too common back home…

I floundered for the right words. "You're welcome!" Was my voice overly loud? It felt like I was practically yelling at them. I must've sounded so crazy. "It's nothing, really. I'm just glad Boromir's okay." I tried to flash them a smile, but felt like it looked more like a grimace instead, only adding to my potential insanity.

"As am I," I could hear the dark chuckle in the Gondorian Captain's voice, and I felt a small smile tug at my mouth. "Tell me, where are you headed? Have you a path?"

I hadn't really thought about where I would go, and I felt a stab of fear. "I… I hadn't really thought about it." I began, and began chewing on my thumbnail like a child. "I mean, I have no idea where I am, or now I got here, or how to get home for that matter." I felt worry begin to eat at me, and my eyes begin to burn. Great, now I wanted to start crying. Even though I was in the world of a story I held very close to my heart, I found no comfort in it. "Are there any villages nearby? Or…" My voice trailed off. How did I ask them if I could come with them until I got in range of a town? Would they even let me? I felt my anxiety threaten to take over, but I pushed it down. I had to ask – what else did I have to lose?

I took a breath in slowly, trying to find the right words. "I know this is a lot to ask, seeing as I just met all of you, and you seem to be in the midst of something extremely important, but…" I steadied my voice. "Could… Could I come with you? I'm not asking to come because I'm looking for an adventure, or anything." I added hastily. "I really have no clue how to use a weapon, and I know that what you're all about to do is going to be dangerous, and I don't know much about this place, but I promise I won't get in the way." A thought struck me, as they all stared at me, and I felt my cheeks burn. "One thing I can offer is some knowledge in First Aid. I was trained a while back on how to make sure wounds don't get infected, and I know enough about the human body that I can help if anyone needs … healing." It was a long shot, but I figured that the methods I knew about how to clean wounds and take care of people from the Lifeguarding and Babysitter courses I'd taken in the past would be a lot better than just shoving herbs into a gash, or puncture wound. "At the first sign of a town, I'll be on my way, I swear. I won't slow you down, and I won't get in the way. I just need to find my way out of this forest." Maybe if I was lucky, I could figure out how to get to a bigger city, like Minas Tirith or something. Maybe I could find some answers there. Again, long shot, but I had very few options at this point.

Aragorn surveyed me with interest, as did the other members of the divided Fellowship. I waited with bated breath for them to give me an answer. Amazingly, it was Boromir who spoke first.

"You would be welcome in our company, Lady Kayla," Ugh, again with the "Lady" thing. "As you have done a great service by saving my life. However, I must warn you, the journey we mean to face will not be an easy one. It will house many dangers, and it is no place for a woman."

I opened my mouth to retort, horribly, but I bit it back. I knew that, in this world, it wasn't as customary for women to engage in any sort of adventures, especially among men. It would probably seem odd to see a young woman, particularly one with no skills in weaponry, and not from this world, traipsing across Middle Earth with the Fellowship of the One Ring.

Aragorn spoke now, perhaps sensing my annoyance at Boromir's comment. "What Lord Boromir means to say, is that you may accompany us, but we cannot guarantee your safety."

I nodded my head furiously up and down like a bobble-head. "I understand completely. I know the dangers of what I'm asking of you and your company, Aragorn," I mentally congratulated myself at my abilities to at least _try_ to talk in a formal-ish way, so as to not draw any more unnecessary attention to myself. "I just need safe passage out of the wood, and then I will be on my way. As long as I can find a village, or at least get some bearing on where I am, and where I should go, I will not be with you all long." There was a silence, and for one brief, terrifying second, I wondered if they would still say no, and I would still be stuck trying to find my own way out of the forest.

However, much to my joy, Aragorn spoke at last. "You many join us then for the time being, Lady Kayla. We head south, to follow the Orc's trail, and rescue Merry and Pippin. Before we depart, we must gather our belongings at the shore of the Anduin River. Come." Ah, so _that_ was the name of the river.

I scrambled to my feet, and brushed the dead leaves and dirt of the forest floor off my butt, before starting after them, but not before I raced up the hill, and grabbed my bag, grumbling again over how heavy it was. I was really going to have to start coming to terms with not having so much of my stuff with me, especially if I was going to be traveling a lot on foot for a little while. I couldn't quite remember how long the Fellowship had journeyed before they had encountered the Riders of Rohan, or the Rohirrim, led by Éomer. I wondered vaguely if it would take them longer to find Rohan, seeing as Boromir couldn't go to quickly do to his injuries, and I had the physicial fitness of a grandma. I tried to put those thoughts out of my head as I scurried through the eerily still wood to catch up with the only people who could potentially help me get out of this mess.

* * *

There was a _thud_ and a loud huff as Gimli practically threw himself onto the ground by the now roaring campfire, and I had to suppress a giggle as the dwarf exhaled loudly, and sprawled himself all over the ground.

We had returned to the banks of the Anduin River, and gathered together what remaining provisions the Fellowship had, from some weaponry, to the lembas bread the elves of Lothlórien had given them. The men refilled their water skins with the water of the great river, and then we were off. We had to travel carefully, more so due to Boromir's injuries, and my inappropriate shoes for the occasion. My sneakers had next to no grip on the forest floor, and I was stumbling around like a blind, drunken fool. Thankfully, no one questioned me anymore about my odd clothes and backpack. I hadn't let them see inside the bag, mind you. I didn't want to have to explain what the hell my laptop was, let alone have one of them break it by accident. I had also kept my phone hidden, as well as my toiletry kit, and text books.

We had trekked through the woods for what felt like forever, and I wondered if we had even covered any ground at all. The whole damn place looked the same to me, and I really hated being so deep in the bush. As the sun had begun to set, and it was clear we would not have daylight on our side to see through the thick trees much longer, Aragorn had announced that we should set up camp, and insisted that Boromir take the night to rest, much to the other man's indignant protests.

I was starting to think that his shoulder wound wasn't Boromir's only injury. He seemed to be limping a little, and got short of breath rather quickly, and I noted a pained expression as his hand fluttered to his side on occasion. I wondered if he hadn't bruised or broken any ribs during his fight with the Uruk-hai. I had made a mental note to perhaps ask him once we had settled if he felt any pain in his ribs.

I suddenly remembered his shoulder wound, and my eyes snapped in his direction. Since we had settled in camp for the night, Boromir had been seated a ways away from the fire, and his face looked a little white. I could tell he was in pain, and that he maybe didn't want to burden anyone with it. I also remembered that I had a small tube of Polysporin, a disinfectant cream/gel, in my toiletry kit. If I could, I could maybe help prevent any kind of infection to the wound, and help him heal faster. I also wanted to clear out the herbs Aragorn had used. Not that I didn't trust the Ranger's methods, but dirty herbs in a dirty arrow wound did not sound like they would bode well together for the Gondorian Captain.

I reached over to my bag, and unzipped it, rummaging around for my toiletry kit. I found it at the bottom of my bag, and yanked it up to the top, careful not to expose too much of it to the open air (more questions and such). My hand closed over the small tube of Polysporin, and I quickly put the toiletry kit back in my pack, and zipped it closed again. I then stood up, and hurried over to Boromir.

He had his back to me at this point, and when I gently tapped his shoulder, he started, causing me to jump. Upon seeing that it was just me, he calmed a bit, and gave me a brief, courteous, nod.

"Lady Kayla," he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and evident pain.

"Just Kayla," I replied absently, while seating myself next to him. "I have something that might dull the pain a little." I offered, waving the tube briefly so he could see it for only a second. I didn't need the questioning looks or distrust from him right now, only his cooperation. "It's a disinfectant from my home – it's meant to help clean wounds and heal them faster. Like the herbs Aragorn used, only more efficient." I had brought my water bottle over with me, too. It was the last remaining source of the cleanest water I was sure to find here, and I needed something to wipe down his wound with. My shirt was shift relatively clean, since I had been sleeping in my hoodie for the past three nights, and it had shielded most of my shirt from the gritty ground. I wanted my shirt to remain as clean as possible, so earlier I had taken it off, and just worn my hoodie. Now, I could use it as a means to help clean Boromir's wound as best I could.

He looked at me, his eyes skeptical. "A healing method from your homeland? How do I know it will not only further any potential infection?" Despite having helped save his life, I could tell Boromir was still rather distrusting. I mean, he had been through a metric fuck-ton in the last twenty-four hours – I couldn't' exactly blame him.

I shrugged, "Just trust me, I guess?" When he didn't say anything back, I sighed. "Look, I am inherently useless when it comes to fighting, running, or anything that involves self-defence. If I really was stupid enough to poison you, do you think I'd get very far before I got run through by Aragorn, or shot by Legolas?" I kept my voice down as I said the last part, so that the Ranger and the Elf didn't hear me. They had been quietly conversing at the edge of the camp, probably figuring out the best way to get out of the wood at dawn, and I didn't want them to think I was plotting against them or something as equally diabolical.

Boromir didn't say anything in response to that either, but he shifted his position a little bit, and I could tell he seemed more relaxed. Feeling a little better myself, I gave him my best, reassuring smile. "How are you feeling, anyway? I noticed you touched your ribs a few times – think anything's broken?"

He finally answered me this time. "I do not think so; perhaps some mild bruising. I can manage." His answers were short and to the point, and I couldn't tell if it was because he was in pain, or he didn't want to disclose that he was more injured that we thought. I decided to let him keep his secrets, but made a mental note to mention it to Aragorn. We couldn't let him go over-exerting himself, lest he do much more, unnecessary, damage to his body.

"If you're sure," I said simply, before getting down the business. "Before I apply the disinfectant, I need to clean the wound a little. Are you okay with exposing it for me?" When he eyed me, I added quickly, feeling a blush start in my pale cheeks. "You don't have to take your shirt off, I just need to get at the wound. Just exposing your shoulder is fine." Boromir looked like he wanted to argue, but as he moved, he winced, and I knew he knew he had no choice.

He slowly loosened his cloak, and let it fall to the ground, before shimmying his left arm out of his tunic, and lowering the fabric so that I could get a better look at his shoulder. Upon seeing it, revealed in the dying daylight, and glowing firelight, I hissed audibly. It looked a little worse than I thought it would. The puncture wound itself looked black in the dim light, and the skin around it was an angry red color. There was still cried blood caked along it, as well, and I could see the herbs Aragorn had used were flaking off, leaving the arrow wound unprotected to the cool, night air.

"That looks painful," I mumbled, trying to keep myself composed, and my stomach under control. Even though it was dried, blood still made me nauseated. I wetted my shirt with the water from the bottle, and tossed the now empty plastic water bottle away into the night before Boromir could see it. I then carefully scooted closer to him, and glanced up before I started wiping off the wound. "This might hurt," I warned him, trying my best to look as reassuring as possible.

He grunted once, and I nodded, before gently placing the cool cloth on his wound. He inhaled sharply, but didn't move or tell me to stop as I slowly and carefully wiped around the wound, and gently dapped at the wound itself. I mainly wanted to clean off the dirt and dried blood, as well as the herbs from earlier. I did this for a few moments, until I was pretty much satisfied with my handy-nurse skills. I then stealthily squeezed some of the Polysporin on my fingers, and applied it carefully to the wound. I knew it stung Boromir, because his hissed through his teeth.

"It burns," he noted, his eyes staring down at his shoulder.

"That means it's working," I replied. I finished applying the cream/gel, and leaned back on my heels, admiring my work. "Leave it exposed to the air until it's dried, then you can put your shoulder back in your clothes. As long as I apply a little each day for a few days, or at least until I go, it should feel a lot better very soon. It'll prevent infection, and help it heal. Just don't over-do anything. No sudden movements with that arm."

Boromir was still staring at his shoulder, before glancing back up at me. His grey eyes looked less pained now, but he still looked exhausted. "My thanks," was all he said.

I nodded once, trying to smile again, but feeling my own exhaustion start to take over. I yawned once, and stretched, hearing my bones pop as I did. "Try to get some rest," I added over my shoulder as I walked back to my pack to stow the Polysporin back in it. "You'll feel better." I didn't check to see if he'd heard me, because I was so tired now all the sound seemed to have gone from the world. I put the Polysporin away, and lay down by the fire on a pile of dry leaves. They made the ground surprisingly soft, and it almost felt like I was camping, only in a more comfortable situation now.

Despite still not knowing why I was here, or how I got here, I was starting to feel a little better. Sure, I was still scared shitless, and I missed my family and my home, but at least I wasn't alone anymore. It was nice to have had some human, well, mostly human, contact.

Even though I knew I'd be up again in a few hours to leave at dawn, I couldn't help but feel like I was about to have the best night's sleep I'd had in days.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Sorry for the slight delay with this chapter, everyone! Been really busy. Big thank you to everyone who's R &R'ing, and Fav'ing and Following the story! Much appreciated – keeps me motivated! Don't know how soon I'll update again, I have a lot going on this week with my upcoming graduation ceremony from University! Coupled with family events, and working, but I hope to have the next chapter up soon! Until then, hope you all enjoyed this one!**


	5. Running Up that Hill

**A/N:** **Lazy, rainy days means I get a chance to write. Couple that with the hot water heater being busted, and my Internet refusing to work, and you have yourself the latest chapter of** _ **Journey to a Curious Place**_ **! I hope you all enjoy this one – I've been having a bit of a writer's block lately!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Five:**

 **Running Up that Hill**

* * *

I woke with a start, and inhaled cold air into my lungs. At first, it felt like I was breathing in the air from the AC unit in my bedroom. The softness beneath my lower back felt like my bed, and the warmth at my feet felt like my cat, who liked to sleep there sometimes. I didn't open my eyes. I wanted it to be real. I wanted to be back in my bed, and reach out to grab my phone off my side table, and being browsing through Facebook or Tumblr. I wanted to feel my cat stir and meow softly as I repositioned myself in my haze of exhaustion.

I wanted to be _home_.

I shifted slightly, and cracked one eye open. No sooner had I done so, my heart fell into the ground beneath me. Instead of being greeted with the site of my bedroom, my walls, and my cat, I was greeted with the pale morning light of the wood, and the unmistakable sounds of the Fellowship moving around me. I was amazed I had managed to stay asleep for so long, seeing as they had already put out the fire, and packed up most of their belongings.

I was raising my head slowly, when Aragorn noticed I was awake. "Ah, Lady Kayla, it is good you are awake. We must depart shortly. Please, ready yourself." I rubbed one eye, and nodded sleepily. I rolled to my feet, and dusted myself off, before scurrying away into the wood to relieve myself. One thing I still wasn't used to doing: peeing in the woods. Not a fun time, especially being a woman.

Once I was done, I hurried back to the makeshift camp, and gathered my things together. The air was already starting to feel a little bit warmer (warmer for autumn, anyway) and I knew I wouldn't be needing my hoodie anytime soon, particularly if we'd be moving all day again, and I would certainly work up a sweat. I stuffed my hoodie in my backpack, mentally cursing the added weight, but still not wanting to part with anything from my home, and hurried to catch up to Aragorn, who was already beginning to lead the way through the wood.

In a few, quick paces, I fell into step next to the Ranger. "Aragorn, can I talk to you for a second?" I glanced over my shoulder, to make sure no one else could hear us. Legolas and Gimli walked behind us, a ways enough away that the dwarf at least couldn't hear us, though I doubted Legolas's "Vulcan Hearing" would betray him now. Boromir was at the back, and I noted how he was still limping a bit, but his hand moved to his shoulder less, and I hoped that the Polysporin had helped him a little.

Aragorn glanced down at me, "What is it?" He asked, and I could see mild concern in his pale, green eyes.

I tried to keep my voice hushed while I spoke to him, careful to continuously glance over my shoulder, to make sure at least Boromir couldn't hear us. "It's about Boromir." I stated softly.

The concern in Aragorn's eyes flamed a little brighter, and he glanced back at the Gondorian Captain. "Is he alright? Has something happened?"

I backtracked quickly, waving my hands in front of my in a gesture of calmness. "No! No," I spoke quickly. "It's just… I think he may be more injured that he's letting on. I suspect he may have bruised and or broken a few ribs in the fight with that monster. I'm worried." A thought occurred to me, "Also, don't tell him I told you. He said he was fine, but I don't believe it. He needs time to heal, but I know your journey is going to take a while."

Aragorn's eyes were still on the other man, and I could see him thinking hard about what to do or say next. "Thank you for informing me of this, Kayla." He said simply, and then appeared to let the matter drop. I took that as my hint to retreat into the group, and nodded once, before slowing my pace, and coming to walk between the twosome that was Legolas and Gimli, with Boromir walking behind me. I wondered vaguely what Aragorn was planning on doing with the information I had just given him, but thought it best not to dwell on it, despite my anxiety threatening to make me want to tear my hair out because of it. Would he tell Boromir I had tattled to him? Was tattling even a thing here? Was I overreacting? Probably.

I took to silence for the next while, not really wanting to speak with anyone. Occasionally, I would crane my neck, to try and catch a glimpse of where Aragorn was leading us, and my eyes only saw trees. It was became frustrating, so I spent the next while watching my feet as I walked, and then the next while after that looking around the forest.

I couldn't tell what time of day it was in here, everything looked the same. Even if it was early morning, the sunlight was all but doused by the trees surrounding us. They were so thick I couldn't see more than a couple dozen feet ahead and all around me. From what little I could see of the sky, it looked like it might be blue, or maybe grey, I couldn't tell. At least it wasn't raining; that would've made things a lot worse. I couldn't exactly go into my bag and get my umbrella out, could I? That could only raise more questions, and I couldn't have that. This was already weird and strained enough as it was.

It had been one or two hours of straight walking, and heavy silence, when I began to notice the trees beginning to thin. The trunks became skinnier, and the branches sparser. Even the trees' color seemed to be getting paler, as though having been exposed to direct sunlight more often. When I looked up, I could see more of the sky above me, and noticed how the sun only seemed to be barely making any light. We must have left camp when the sun was just rising.

It wasn't long before, as I began to squint ahead of me, I could see what looked like a break in the trees, and my heart leapt. It looked like we were finally about to leave the forest behind us, and enter into the vast fields I remembered from the movies. I wondered how far it would be until we reached Rohan. I remembered watching Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, spend what looked like hours, and perhaps days, running across the fields, and over mountains, until finally meeting the Rohirrim, and Éomer. I hoped it wouldn't be long, since I really wanted to find some kind of civilization, and figure out a way home.

True to my eyes, the forest broke apart ahead of us after about another twenty minutes of walking, and I had to narrow my eyes against the sudden brightness that greeted us. As we exited the woods, and stepped out into the rocky plains that would lead to Rohan, I stopped and stared in awe.

It must have been only around 8 or 9 in the morning, since the air was still cool, and the sun wasn't very high in the sky. The world was a dusty, pale blue and tan, and a calm wind rustled the dying grass beneath our feet. Here and there, rocks jutted from the ground, making the enormous plain look like an ocean, and stretched as far as I eye could see. It was both jaw-dropping, and terrifying. I'm slightly agoraphobic – meaning I don't like big open spaces; I feel too overexposed.

After my brief moment of awe, I noticed Aragorn hurry ahead, and climb up a rock, looking into the distance. He turned to look back, and called Legolas over.

"Legolas, I need your elven eyes." The elf nodded once, and he strode passed me, and up onto the rock with Aragorn. They spoke amongst themselves for a moment, before turning back to the rest of us. I felt Boromir shift behind me, and I glanced back, noticing how his hand had fluttered to his ribs again. Upon seeing me watching him, he snatched his hand away, and refused to look at me. I narrowed my eyes, but didn't say anything about. Aragorn knew, and that was all that mattered now.

"The Orcs move towards the Kingdom of Rohan." Aragorn explained, climbing down from the rock, and Legolas jumped down nimbly after him. "I doubt they will attempt to enter Edoras, but we must move quickly. If they intend to enter the Kingdom, we must warn King Théoden."

I said nothing, but felt my heart tug. I knew at this point, Théoden was more than likely under Saruman's control, and would still be in need of saving. I also remembered that, during the Battle on the Pelennor Fields, the King of Rohan would die. A thought occurred to me then: could I save him too? _Should_ I save him? I had already saved Boromir, and who knows what kinds of monumental changes that had brought upon the story. I didn't even want to think about it now, it made me want to curl up and not move. Ugh, I hate my brain.

Without another word, Aragorn and Legolas took off across the plain, but took care not to run too quickly, seeing as Gimli had trouble keeping up, and Boromir was still injured. I had a giant backpack, but managed to keep up with the latter relatively well, seeing as I didn't have stubby legs (not being racist towards dwarves, just stating a fact), and I wasn't injured; not to mention lying about said injuries. I would need to have words with Boromir later, and pester him to admit he was in pain. It would catch up with the bugger sooner or later.

Now, let me explain something: I do not run. I can run short distances relatively easily, and walking is of no consequence to me – in fact I was really good at power walking back in Middle School. But running, not to mention running with a huge, heavy backpack on, continuously for ages across a landscape that barely changes in a few hours, is total hell. I had never been more grateful that Gimli had about as much cardio as I did, and slightly for Boromir's injuries (only a little), because we kept stopping to catch our breaths every so often. I knew we were still probably making good time, seeing as the Uruk-hai were a lot bigger than us, and wearing really heavy armor, which would slow them down considerably. They also had to stop and eat, as well as rest, just as we did. We'd catch them eventually, but I didn't know how long that would take.

We ran for three days and three nights, and by the third day I could barely even walk. My muscles were screaming at me to give them a break, and I wanted nothing more than to just sit down and die; or maybe sleep – or die. Whatever.

We had the brief moment that I remembered from the movies, when Aragorn found one of the _Leaves of Lórien_ from one of the Hobbit's cloaks, and he joyously told us they might yet be alive. I could feel the weariness of the group, and the small bought of hope, but said nothing. I couldn't afford to mess anything else up at this point, and kept my thoughts to myself.

Another moment I remembered happened when Aragorn stopped, and pressed an ear to the ground, listening to the earth. I watched from a ways away, still gasping for air alongside Gimli, who looked like he was about to pass out, and Boromir, who still looked pained. I couldn't quite hear what Aragorn was saying from where I stood, but suddenly, the Ranger stood up, and beckoned to us.

"Hurry!" He called down the rocky slope of the terrain we stood on, before tearing away across the sea of dead grass and rock. I groaned inwardly, as Legolas turned to look back at us.

"Come, we are gaining on them!" The elf sprinted away after Aragorn, and disappeared out of sight over the rocks as well.

Gimli began grumbling as we hurried after them, and I heard him mumble something about, "No food or rest," and, "what bare rock can tell."

I think.

After a few more hours of running, we crested the top of a large, rocky, hill, and I saw Aragorn and Legolas stop, and I knew in that moment exactly where we were. Though the terrain looked no different compared to the vast, dry expanse I had become used to in the last few days, I felt a change in the air around us.

We were in Rohan.

Sure enough, no sooner had I realized this, Boromir spoke suddenly, and I stilled myself, surprised that it was he who was talking, and not Aragorn. The Gondorian man moved to join the Ranger and the elf at the top of the hill.

"Rohan," Boromir breathed quietly, his grey eyes surveying the landscape. "Home of the Horse Lords."

I stared out over the huge fields and rocks, and wondered how far we were from Edoras. A few days, maybe, seeing as I couldn't see anything familiar in the distance. That, and I didn't have my glasses on, which made it a lot harder to see. I hadn't used them since joining up with the Partial Fellowship and, once again, didn't want to draw attention to myself.

Aragorn's voice cut through my thoughts, finishing Boromir's statement, and getting back on track with the original dialogue from the films. "There is something strange at work here." He sounded worried, and his voice strained. "Some new evil gives speed to these creatures. It sets its will against us." He was right, we hadn't yet caught up to the horde that had taken Merry and Pippin, and I knew we wouldn't at all. At this point, it was likely that Éomer and his soldiers had killed them all, and Merry and Pippin had escaped into Fangorn Forest.

I saw Legolas take off ahead of the group, and raced up a rock to position himself at the highest peak, in order to better see the ground ahead of us. I knew, though we couldn't see the Uruk-hai, Legolas could at least sense them.

"Legolas!" Aragorn called to his elven companion, "What do your elf eyes see?" I knew what was coming, and I was going to have to bite my lip to keep from singing "They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard" after Legolas spoke.

"They have turned Northeast," The elf called back, and he paused suddenly, and I knew what he was seeing, and the real fear that was setting in now. "They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!"

"Gard, ga-ga-ga gard," I whispered under my breath, and felt my cheeks turn pink when I noticed Boromir glance sideways at me, and curious look on his face. I composed myself, and instead turned my attention to Aragorn, who had paled.

"Saruman," he said softly, his voice filled with confusion, and fear.

* * *

On the third day, the sun rose like a beacon of crimson in the sky, and I knew what day it was. This was the day that, hopefully, we would find the Rohirrim, or maybe some sign of them, and learn of Merry and Pippin's possible fates. Despite the sun being bright and big in the sky, the morning dawned cold and dull. I had just been woken from maybe about a four hour sleep to Aragorn telling us we had to move again, and when I cracked a lid, I could see the great, red orb that was the sun, glowing in the sky above me. I cringed, and said a quick, badly articulated prayer to whatever God was out there, that we would find Éomer and the Rohirrim today, and that nothing would go amiss.

Legolas commented on the sun as we hurried to pack up our small, makeshift camp, and continue on. "A red sun rises," He sounded worn and tired, though his face and demeanor did not show it, "Blood has been split this night."

I felt a prickle of fear sting my skin at his words, and I could tell they bothered the others, as well. I knew they were probably fearing the worst for Merry and Pippin, but at the same time were trying to hold onto hope that they might still be alive. Oh, how I wished I could ease their fears. But instead, I kept my mouth shut.

We hurried across the plains as the sun rose higher in the sky. Despite my screaming muscles, and the coppery taste of what I assumed was blood in my mouth (I sometimes taste blood even if there isn't any when I run too hard for too long – I am such a wuss), I had managed to keep up with them. I was thankful each day for Gimli, since the dwarf was about as physically fit as I was. We took to sprinting short distances together, and making as little chatter as possible, since we were almost always both short of breath. Instead, we had an unspoken bond of hating physical activity, and I think it helped to get us better acquainted with one another.

We came to a gap in the rocks, wide enough for an army of horses to get through, and I froze. Wasn't this where the Rohirrim was supposed to meet us? It looked really familiar, and I was almost one-hundred percent sure that this was where it was supposed to happen.

Except it didn't.

I began to panic, I turned on the spot, as Aragorn and Legolas darted ahead to examine the ground, and begin to whisper to one another in what I figured as Elvish. I tried to squint to see any signs of smoke billowing up into the air in the distance, but couldn't see anything. How long had we taken to get here? There was no way we could be early, there had been all the signs. The leaf of Lórien, Legolas seeing the horde heading for Isengard, and the bloody sun. Had we missed the Riders of Rohan? Oh God, what if we had? I tried to swallow my panic as Aragorn and Legolas walked over to Boromir, Gimli, and I.

"What is it, Aragorn?" Gimli asked, seeing the look on the man's face. "What did you find?"

"There are tracks marks in the earth – they look like hoof prints from horses; many of them. An army rode through this pass. It looked to be of men."

I felt my blood run cold. We had missed them. The Rohirrim had come and gone and we had missed them. We had been too slow. Whether it had been from Boromir's injuries, or my own inability to run, I didn't know – but we had missed them. What the hell were we going to do now? Should I pretend like I smelled smoke? _Did_ I actually smell smoke? Now that I thought about it, it _did_ kind of smell smoky out here.

That was when I saw it.

It wasn't a billowing, black cloud like the one that burned the bodies of the Uruk-hai. It was smaller, and I could just make it out over the hill, maybe two-hundred feet from us. It was faint, but it was definitely smoke. My heart leapt into my mouth.

"Smoke!" I shouted without thinking, and pointed. "There! Over the hill!"

The others whirled to look, and I heard Aragorn whisper. "The tracks lead that way." A pause, before he called to us. "Come! Quickly!" He tore off towards the smoke, and we followed suit after him as fast as we could. When we came to the top of the hill, the sight before us nearly made me lightheaded with relief.

It was the Rohirrim.

It looked like they had set up a small camp to tend to the wounded from the skirmish with the Uruk-hai from the night before. There were men and horses everywhere, and a small fire burning in the center. There were no tents, only soldiers and, as I squinted, one man with a helmet that had a long, white, horse-looking tail on it.

Éomer.

We were all crouched at the top of the hill, behind a rock, when Aragorn noticed who the men were as well, and he stood up, and began to walk down the hill towards the men, his voice ringing clearly in the smoky air.

"Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

No sooner had Aragorn called to them, did the men take up arms. I saw Éomer mount his horse quickly, and unsheathe his sword. Before any of us could do anything, the Rider of Rohan were coming towards us at breakneck speed, with Éomer leading them. I felt fear stab at me, but I pushed it down. They would bring us no harm, though it was still intimidating to have them come running at us like that. Within a few seconds, the army stood before us, and Éomer was surveying us from atop his horse. Aragorn backed up to join us, his hands raised in a sign of surrender, and his face calm.

Éomer spoke now, and his sounded suspicious, as he should have been. "What business do two men, an elf, a dwarf, and a woman have in the Riddermark?" He brandished his sword at each of us as he spoke, and I took an instinctive step backwards as he did. When none of us spoke, his annoyance deepened. "Speak quickly!"

Gimli was the first to respond, and I felt my eye twitch at his comment. "Give me your name, Horse Master, and I shall give you mine." Gimli, you sassy fucking dwarf. I exhaled in exasperation as Éomer looked down at the dwarf, his scowl darkening. He slowly climbed down from his horse, his sword now pointing at Gimli. I felt Aragorn and Legolas move closer to their dwarven companion in protectiveness.

Éomer stood before the group, his eyes on Gimli, and his mouth curving in a smirk. "I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground." This comment earned another exasperated, albeit very quiet, sigh from me, as I felt Legolas shift like lightning, and knocked an arrow in his bow, aiming it at Éomer.

"You would die before your sword fell!" The elf declared, his eyes like steel. I wanted to smack him for being so stupid. As soon as the arrow was knocked, the army began to shift forward, but Éomer held up at hand to stop them. Aragorn moved in front of Legolas, pushing his bow down, and giving glaring pointedly at him. He turned back to Éomer now.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin," he gestured to the dwarf, who looked a little pale after being threatened. "Boromir, of Gondor," Boromir stiffened beside me, and he nodded once to the man of Rohan. "Legolas, of the Woodland Realm," Legolas was still glaring daggers at Éomer, "And Lady Kayla." I felt a blush creep up my cheeks when Éomer looked at me. I knew I looked weird by comparison. My name alone gave that away.

Aragorn looked back at Éomer, "We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden, your King." This comment was met with stiff silence, and I waited patiently for Éomer to tell Aragorn what was happening in Edoras.

Éomer spoke slowly, his demeanour seeming to have calmed since the introductions. "Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." I heard Aragorn take a soft, sharp intake of breath, as Éomer added. "Not even his own kin." He then removed his helmet, and I knew that it was now that Aragorn realized who Éomer was. At this gesture of exposure, the army behind Éomer sheathed their swords, and the atmosphere calmed considerably.

Éomer looked at Aragorn with a grave expression. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King, and has claimed Lordship over his lands." I felt the group shift with nervousness around me at the heaviness of Éomer's words. "My company are those loyal to Rohan – and for that, we are banished." His voice dropped an octave, and he approached Aragorn, his eyes dark and steely. "The White Wizard is cunning." There was contempt in his voice, "He walks here and there, they say." His eyes roamed our small group, resting on each of our faces. I felt goose bumps erupt on my skin. "Is an old man, hooded and cloaked," his eyes came to rest on me. "And everywhere his spies slip passed our nets." I felt the harshness of his gaze, and I shrank back, feeling suddenly very overexposed.

Aragorn broke the awkward silence, "We are not spies," Éomer directed his gaze back to Aragorn, and I trained my eyes on the ground. "We track a party of creatures Westward across the plain. Orcs – only larger. They have taken two of our friends captive." I held my breath; I knew what was coming, and it was going to hurt to see the Fellowship in pain.

Éomer fixed Aragorn with a stare. "The monsters are destroyed – we slaughtered them during the night."

The silence that followed was heavy with shock and silence, and I kept my eyes anywhere but on the members of the little group. Gimli was the first to speak, his voice breaking with sadness.

"But there were two hobbits; did you see two hobbits with them?" He demanded, his eyes wide and scared.

"They would be small; only children to your eyes." Despite his tone being calm, there was fear in Aragorn's eyes.

There was a pause, and I could see a bit of remorse in Éomer's eyes when he spoke again. "We left none alive." He turned, pointing over the hill behind the army. It was then I could see the huge plume of smoke on the horizon. "We piled the carcasses and burned them."

Aragorn seemed to wilt at the man rom Rohan's words, and Gimli whispered. "Dead?"

Éomer looked down at the dwarf, his eyes calm and a little sad. "I am sorry." When no one said anything, and I could see the group beginning to break down out of sadness, Éomer turned away, and whistled once. Three horses came trotting up to the front of the army. "May these horses fair you to better fortune than their former Masters." He exchanged one last look with Aragorn, before uttering, "Farewell," and remounting his horse. The others in the army began to retreat to their own horses, and mounted them as well. They were ready to move.

Éomer turned back to us once more. "Look for your friends; but do not trust to hope." He looked away, his eyes bitter. "It is forsaken in these lands." He turned to his army. "We ride North!" He spurred his horse, and the army took off, leaving us in a cloud dust, uncertainty, and pain in their wake.

I inhaled and exhaled one, two, three times, trying to calm my nerves. Even though I knew what was to come, hearing all that depressing information left me feeling drained. I turned and saw Aragorn mount his horse, and Legolas and Gimli do the same. The third horse stood, ready and waiting, for Boromir or me to mount it. I figured we'd be sharing it, and I hope it wouldn't aggravate his injuries too much.

Oh, how painfully wrong I was.

As soon as Boromir tried to mount the horse, he gasped in pain, and nearly fell right off again. If it wasn't for me darting forwards and catching his arm, he'd have most likely fallen on his potentially broken ribs.

"Boromir!" I yelped, catching the man with little ease. He was a lot taller than me. "Are you okay? Aragorn!" I yelled to the Ranger, who had already dismounted, and hurried over.

"Is he alright? Boromir, what happened?" Aragorn addressed the Gondorian, who refused to meet his gaze.

"It is nothing," He hissed through the pain, his hand fluttering to his ribs again. "I am fine."

"He's lying," I blurted, and I felt Boromir throw me a huge glare. "Aragorn, I think his ribs are broken. He's shouldn't be riding. He needs time to rest and heal." I tried to ignore the feeling of Boromir's gaze trying to burn a hole in the back of my head. For a moment, Aragorn said nothing. He seemed to be thinking something over. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he spoke, addressing Boromir.

"Kayla is right, Boromir. If you truly are more injured that you let on, going after Merry and Pippin will not be an easy task for you." Boromir opened his mouth to retort, but Aragorn silenced him with a look. "I know you feel yourself responsible for their capture, but you are not to blame, Boromir. I know you wish to help them, but you are of no use to them as an injured man if they are alive, and in greater peril before."

Boromir looked like he wanted to run Aragorn, or me, through with his sword. "Aragorn, I must help to find the little ones. My injuries are my own burden, no one else's." He threw me a look with the last comment, and I looked at the ground, ashamed.

Aragorn was shaking his head. "Nevertheless, you need to heal, Boromir. If Merry and Pippin are yet alive, we do not know how far they could be. It could be another three days journey, and your body will not heal properly in that time." Boromir tried to protest, but Aragorn finalized his plan. "Edoras is a mere day's ride from here, perhaps less. Take Lady Kayla, and ride for the capital. Regardless of the fates of Merry and Pippin, we must still help King Théoden. His is in a greater peril than I anticipated. Go, now." He gestured to the horse, before adding. "We will come to Edoras on the 'morrow, or in a few days' time, I can promise you of this. In the meantime, take rest, and allow your body to heal. I know you believe you must atone and, despite that not being the case, you will find it an easier means if you are physically able to travel."

I finally got a word in, my voice surprised. "I'm going to Edoras with him?" I kept my eyes fixed on Aragorn, trying to not pay attention to Boromir, who by now looked positively murderous.

Aragorn nodded, "You wished to find a city, Lady Kayla, and this is the best I can offer to you. You cannot wield a weapon, and this journey to find the fates of Merry and Pippin are our own burdens to behold, not yours. You must not carry the difficulties of others with you. I cannot guarantee your safety anymore now, than I could before. You will, at least, have a safe haven within the city." His eyes darkened, and he spoke again over his shoulder as he turned to mount his horse again. "Take heart to stay away from Théoden's quarters and home. If he is under the influence of Saruman, you both must keep a safe distance. Keep low, and do not attract attention to yourselves. Lie to protect your true identities, if you must. If we are to aid the King, we must enter into the city without complications." He looked down at Boromir and me, and turned his horse to face the billowing smoke in the distance.

"Ride for Edoras. No matter the outcome, we will meet you there. May luck guide you." And then they were gone, leaving me alone in the vast wasteland that was Rohan, with an animal I hadn't ridden since I was eleven, and a man who probably wanted to run me over with it.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hey, all! Sorry for the immense delay on an update. I graduated University on Thursday! I now have a Bachelor of Fine Arts, meaning I am now a Certified Doodler! I spent several days with family celebrating, so I had no time to write. But here it is! The next chapter is going to begin chronicling more of Kayla's story now, I just needed to find a way to get there, so I came up with this idea! Also, longest chapter so far! Nearly 6000 words! Woo! I hope you all enjoyed! R &R, please!**


	6. Home of the Horse Lords

**A/N:** **Ahoy! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. I am excited to get this new one underway, and start to attempt to develop the relationship between Kayla and Boromir a little more. (No, not** _ **that**_ **kind of relationship. Not yet, anyway.) Read on, and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Six:**

 **Home of the Horse Lords**

* * *

I need to be frank: I haven't ridden a horse since I was about eleven years old. My parents bought me three Riding Lessons as a birthday present, and since then I have never been on a horse. So, to put it bluntly, being forced to ride on a horse again, across vast, _bumpy_ terrain was, honestly, one of the most horrifying experiences of my life. Not only because I was sure I'd be either bucked or thrown off at any second, but also because I basically had to steer the damn animal. Boromir could barely keep himself up on the thing due to his injuries, so I had to sit in front of him, gripping the reins for dear life, and somehow manage to guide the animal in the direction we wanted to go. Thankfully, Rohan is known for its horses, and their immense skill and minds, so I figured the beast knew where to go.

"How far to Edoras from here?" I asked Boromir once I had recovered from being left in a cloud of dust in the wake of Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.

"A day's journey, as Aragorn said," was his grunted response. He still refused to make eye-contact with me, and I knew it was because he was mad at me for telling Aragorn he was hurt.

I exhaled, and rubbed my eyes for a second. God, were they ever sore today. I mostly blamed the fact that I hadn't worn my glasses in a few days, and had to strain my eyes to see. That, and my semi-constant migraines from lack of sleep, and fresh water.

I opened my eyes, and saw that Boromir was attempting to mount the horse again. I moved quickly so that I stood by him, and waited for him to get up. I made sure he didn't overexert himself again and, this time, he managed to get up onto the horse without falling. Once I was sure he was securely in place, I too did my best, and by best I mean in the most unladylike fashion possible, to get up on the horse too. I fastened my backpack, and Boromir's things, onto the back of the horse, before scrambling up.

It was awkward sitting on the horse regularly as it was; I couldn't imagine the women here, well, noble women, being forced to ride side-saddle most days. I could barely keep myself up and comfortable sitting on the horse as a soldier would. I tried to remember how to properly grip the reins, and felt Boromir shift behind me. He grumbled once, and I glanced back. He was looking at me with those piercing grey eyes, and I felt myself wither slightly under their scrutiny.

"Have you not ridden a horse before, Lady Kayla?" Despite being evidently angry at me, Boromir still used the term "Lady" when addressing me. At least he had the curtesy to be polite, I mused, before responding, and feeling a slight, shameful blush creeping up my cheeks.

"No," I admitted. "Well, not entirely. I haven't ridden since I was eleven. Horses make me a little nervous. Not the animals themselves, mind you," I added quickly, "just the whole concept of riding. I'm afraid I'll get thrown off."

Boromir raised an eyebrow, "You have not ridden since you were eleven?" He sounded like he didn't believe me. "How does one live in Middle Earth and grow up not knowing how to ride a horse?"

I narrowed my eyes at his contemptuous comment, "I just never really learned. I prefer walking." I said nothing more after that, and I think Boromir took the hint to let the matter drop. I took to trying to get the horse to move. I gently eased my heels into its sides, and made a soft clicking noise with my tongue. Surprisingly, the horse actually responded, and began to walk up the hill. I glanced back at Boromir.

"What direction are we heading?" I asked, trying to steer the horse in some sort of fashion, but it was tugging on the reins itself, seemingly ignoring my attempts to guide it.

"We head south," Boromir replied stiffly, and I felt him grip my waist suddenly as the horse gave a startling jerk as it picked up speed to crest the hill.

"How do you know?" I knew I probably sounded stupid asking. Boromir was a skilled Captain and warrior. No doubt he knew exactly how to traverse terrain like this, and find his bearings easily. While Aragorn was the Ranger, and ideally a much better navigator, I knew Boromir would have his own set of skills for getting us to Edoras.

I heard him chuckle with little mirth from behind me. "The smoke that Aragorn and the others head towards leads in the direction of Fangorn Forest." I rolled my eyes at his tone, as though he meant it to sound like everyone should know that, and I was stupid for being out of the loop. "I spent a great deal of time as a child learning the maps of Middle Earth," he continued, and I listened quietly as the horse began to make its own way across the plain. "I know the path of the Great River, Anduin, and where it leads. I know that Fangorn is north of Edoras, thus making our journey to the south. And," he added, pointing ahead of me, nearly making me jump when his forefinger nearly bopped me on the nose as he pointed, "there are mountain ridges in the distances, to the west. Edoras sits on the outskirts of the mountain ridges that separate Rohan from Gondor to the far south, and the lands of Dunland, and Enedwaith, to the east." He pointed to the huge ridges of mountains to our right, and towards the ones in the far distance to the south.

"Gondor sits surrounded by the mountains of Rohan and Mordor," Boromir added as I listened in silence. "I was always told as a child, 'When you are lost, look to the mountains, and you will find your way home'."

I felt a small smile touch my lips, "That's a nice sentiment. Who said that to you?"

There was a brief pause, and I glanced over my shoulder to see if he had heard me. Boromir's eyebrows were knitted together, and when he spoke, he sounded pained.

"My Mother," he said it with a finality in his voice, and I took the hint to drop it. Though I never knew what had happened to Boromir's mother, I knew she was no longer alive. There had always been a debate among the different fan communities that his mother had died giving birth to his younger brother, Faramir, but it was still uncertain. I always wondered if Faramir somehow had to do with their mother's death, or if Denethor, their father, somehow found the younger son to be responsible. Either way, Boromir didn't know I knew all this, and I wasn't about to reveal my prior knowledge now. I had to keep a low profile, remember?

We rode in silence for a few minutes, before I tried to break the awkwardness. "Well, even if I didn't know where to go, this horse certainly seems to." I quipped, trying to shoot Boromir a good-natured grin.

I was given a mere grunt and a, "Rohan horses are known for their intellect," in response, and I sighed quietly. Great, now I'd gone and pissed him off. Again.

We rode, well, trotted at the most, for about another twenty minutes before I finally bit the bullet, and tried my hand at talking again. This time, I took the conversation in a different direction, and attempted to apologize.

"I'm sorry I told Aragorn that you're injured," I said flatly, nodding my head back to Boromir once. I felt the man stiffen slightly, before responding.

"It is fine," his voice, too, was flat.

Now it was my turn to let out a slightly mirthless chuckle. For a grown man, Boromir was certainly acting like a little girl. "Please, I know that you're upset with me." This statement caused Boromir to go quieter than before. I decided to continue before he could say anything, if he was going to. "Look, I can tell you're an honorable man, Boromir. You blame yourself for what happened to your friends, and you want to be able to contribute to finding them. I don't believe that they died when those Rohan men killed the monsters that took them. I think there's a chance they're still alive, and Aragorn will find them. They're tiny, as all Hobbits go, and they probably escaped." Boromir didn't say anything, but I knew he was listening, so I continue as quickly as I could, my voice bouncing in time with the movements of the horse.

"Aragorn is right, though, you need to rest and heal before you can become a greater asset in saving them, and even helping King Théoden. I know you wanted to deal with this on your own, and you're upset with me for telling Aragorn, but you need to take at least a few days to get checked out by a healer, and spend at least one day resting. Once your ribs and arrow wound are healed, you will have an easier time doing your part for the Fellowship." More silence, so I kept talking. "By the way, if you want and or need it, I have more of that stuff I put on your wound before; if it's been working, I can put more on to help it heal. And," I added, "You need to stop blaming yourself for what happened. You had no control over Merry and Pippin being taken by those creatures, just as I had no control over finding you all in the middle of the woods. Sometimes things happen for reasons we don't understand, but we can't just go beating ourselves up over the unknown. If we did that, we wouldn't be as far along in the world as we are today."

I paused to take a breath, and Boromir spoke before I could. "Thank you, Lady Kayla." His voice was stiff, and I knew he was still ticked at me, but he seemed to be a little less edgy now. "It is appreciated. The method you used to help heal my wound has been working slightly, and I will have a proper healer look at it once we arrive in Edoras."

I said nothing about how brief his response was. Boromir was a very stoic man, from what I could tell, and having a huge, emotional response to my soliloquy would be unlike him. I accepted the silence, and we rode on.

As time passed, I began to get used to the rhythm of the horse, and how to position and hold my body so I didn't feel too ridged, or feel like I was going to fall off. The sun was beginning to get higher in the sky as we rode, and I guessed we must have been riding for a few hours now, at least. I wondered how Aragorn and the others were doing within Fangorn, and if they had found Gandalf yet. I also wondered if, when I eventually met Gandalf, seeing as they would be coming to Edoras as soon as they found him, if I shouldn't tell the New White Wizard my situation, and if he had any suggestions on what to do about it. Maybe he could help me get home? Or maybe he knew someone who could? The only other person I could think of who could potentially help me was maybe Galadriel, since she was more ancient than Gandalf, and had magics even the wizard himself could not even hope to possess.

We rode on, and the sun began to get lower and lower in the sky. I tried to squint ahead of us, straining to see if Edoras was beginning to loom in the distance, but I couldn't see anything. Not even a small town, nor any farms. There was just infinite quantities of nothing.

We finally came to a stop once the sun had set completely. I could tell the horse was getting tired, since it had slowed to a walk as the sun went down behind the hills and mountains around us. I slowly climbed down, and helped Boromir down, before removing our packs from the horse's back. The huge animal immediately sat itself down, as a sign it was exhausted. Boromir rummaged around until he found some water in his pack, and offered some to me after he had drank, before helping the horse drink the rest.

"We will arrive in Edoras by morning," he explained as he set up a small fire for us. The orange glow made him look like he was made of stone in the dim light. I nodded once, and he took that as my answer, before laying down by the fire. The only sound in the world was the crackling of the fire, and the sounds of the plains around us. I lay myself back down on the ground opposite Boromir and the fire, resting my head on my backpack. I was getting pretty used to sleeping on the ground now, I noted absently. That was when I realized something.

I had been here about a week.

I hadn't been home in a week.

I hadn't seen my family in a week.

I hadn't bathed in a week.

That last one gave me the shivers, and made me almost gag. God knows how bad I probably looked and smelled by now. I absently reached up to feel my hair, and cringed. It felt so limp and greasy against my fingers. I looked down at the only clothes I had with me, and noted how they were covered with specs of grass, dirt, and dust. The only part of me that felt clean was my teeth. I had managed to sneak brushing them a few times since running into the Fellowship, and as such they didn't feel gritty or like they were covered in gross stuff. I sighed. I really hoped that we wouldn't have any issues getting into Edoras, and that I could find kind of way to bathe myself once we had.

* * *

I awoke slowly to the sounds of the horse whickering into the morning air. I opened my eyes, blinking against the sun. I had no idea what time it was, being seeing as we were no longer in a forest, the sun would be much brighter in the morning and, as such, much more invasive.

I rolled over, and noticed that Boromir was still asleep. I decided to make myself useful, and prepare for departure. I stomped the now almost dead fire out, and packed up our bags onto the back of the horse again. It nuzzled my palm as I gently stroked its face, and I smiled slightly. Despite being wary of riding, I really did like horses. They were really beautiful animals, and so powerful. It made me wish I was more proficient at riding.

It was as I was slowly packing together our things that Boromir awakened. I heard a gruff grunt in acknowledgment as he sat up, and stretched quickly. I nodded to him once, before gesturing to the horse.

"I'm ready to go when you are," I said, keeping my tone even. After apologizing to him the day before, and my accidental prying about his mother, we hadn't spoken much. We had gone to sleep nearly right away upon setting up camp, and this was the first I'd spoken with him since. I had been surprised he hadn't asked me anything about where I was from, or how I had gotten to Middle-Earth to begin with.

Suddenly, I had a thought. I quickly unfastened my backpack from the horse, and brought it down to the ground. Upon noticing the questioning look from Boromir, I hurriedly said, "I have to quickly relieve myself, I'll be back in a second." I darted away behind a particularly large rock nearby, and hid from sight. Once I was sure that Boromir could no longer see me, I put my backpack down on the ground, and stared at it.

This was one of the moments I had been dreading since waking up in this world. I now had to decide what to do with my backpack that was full of things that could lead me to being questioned or, worse even, killed. Boromir and I would be arriving at Edoras very soon, I knew that, and I had no idea what to expect. What I _did_ know, was that the people of Rohan, especially in Edoras, were all currently experiencing a bought of distress. I didn't know if the Uruk-hai, along with Saruman, had already begun attacking the various villages and towns within Rohan, but the presence of the "White Hand" was already highly evident in the surrounding area, I was almost certain.

I slowly opened my bag, and stared down at the only reminders I had left of home: my laptop and its charger, my hair straightener, my cellphone and its charger, my textbooks, my wallet, and my toiletry kit. I began to carefully take each thing out of my bag, and hold it close to me once, before placing it down on the ground. Once everything was unloaded, I was left sitting there on the grass, surrounded my all my worldly possessions, and an empty, industrial grade, black backpack.

I now had to make a choice: what to take, and what to leave behind.

I had really hoped it wasn't going to come to this, but I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that, once we somehow gained access into Edoras, I would be questioned about my appearance and, more than likely, what I carried with me. It would be too hard to try to explain why I had so much weird stuff with me, and Boromir didn't even know I had so much with me, either. The last thing I wanted was to be thrown in the prison cells, or maybe deemed a witch and executed. I knew how bad the 21st Century could get back home; I could hardly even begin to imagine the kind of destruction having minor technology could bring upon the people of Middle-Earth if it fell into the wrong hands. I didn't even want to think about that now. I had to make a decision, and I had to do it soon.

I carefully put everything but my toiletry kit back in my backpack, and stared down at it. I had no use for these things here. I had no way to charge my laptop or phone, and no Wi-Fi. I couldn't straighten my hair in private because it would take too long, and the smell of burning hair would attract unwanted attention. My textbooks were of no consequence and, quite frankly, I would be glad to be rid of them. They were just extra weight anyway.

I wanted to keep my toiletry kit, and all that was inside, with me. I figured since it was just a black bag, it wouldn't look too suspicious. I knew having proper oral hygiene was a huge benefit here, and would help to keep me as healthy as I could be. In addition to that, I still had the Polysporin with me to help treat any potential infection, dental floss for all the meat I knew I'd be eating (that's all anyone seemed to eat here – the past week I'd eaten _Lembas_ and a cooked rabbit, which had made me nearly cry. They're so cute). I also had my toothbrush in there, and a little bit of toothpaste left over, as well as my hairbrush. My brush was wooden and had black bristles, and I hoped it would blend it alright with the surrounding area and its fashion.

I continued to stare down at my backpack, wondering what to do with it. Should I hide it? Could I even find it again? Was there even a point in doing so? What if someone found it, then what? Would I even _want_ to come back for it? What if, when I eventually got home somehow, I reappeared without my backpack, and any form of ID? Was time even passing back home, or was it like a Narnia situation? What if I woke up in the forest again, but I was back home? I'd have no cellphone, money, or anything. What if –

I mentally kicked myself. Worrying like a lunatic was _not_ going to help me right now. I had to calm myself, do something with my backpack, and then head out. Boromir was waiting for me, and who knows what he thought I was doing back here. Gross.

I finally decided it was best to just hide my backpack. I moved some bigger boulders around, and scraped my nails through the earth until I had managed to kind of dig a hole, and placed my backpack in, before beginning to cover it with rocks. As I was about to place the last rock, effectively sealing my backpack away in my makeshift grave for it, I quickly unzipped the front of it, and took out my house keys. The keychain was riddled here and there with various ornaments and chains I had collected over the years, and I decided to keep them with me just in case I did end up back home without anything with me. I also wanted to keep it for sentimental value. I threw them in my toiletry kit, which I would stow in Boromir's bag for the time being, and covered my backpack with the rock.

I stood back, staring down at the place that now housed some of the only reminders that I wasn't from here. I felt a lump start to form in my throat, but I swallowed it down angrily. Now wasn't the time to start crying like a little child; now was the time to "man up", so to speak, and figure out what to do next. I took a few deep breaths, and turned my back on my backpack – on technically my former life itself – and walked back around the rocks to find Boromir waiting for me.

He gave me a curious look when he noticed I no longer had my backpack. "What happened to your bag?" He asked bluntly, and I didn't look at him as I replied.

"I left it behind. It's too heavy, and I have no use of it anymore." I said nothing more, and I think Boromir took my broody silence as I didn't want to talk about it anymore, so we didn't. I stowed my toiletry kit in his bag without question from either of us, and remounted the horse. Boromir carefully climbed up behind me again and, upon taking my waist in his hands again, and we shifted until we were comfortable, the horse took off into the morning air.

"We are perhaps an hour or so from Edoras now," Boromir commented after a few minutes of silent riding. "You may even be able to see it in the distance soon; keep your eyes open." I nodded, but didn't give him a verbal answer. My mind was still reeling from deciding to leave all my stuff behind, and it had made me quite the unhappy camper, to say the least. I knew I was moping, but I didn't care. My brain was also doing flips on how the hell we were going to convince the people of Edoras to let us in. Just saying that Boromir was injured wasn't going to cut it, not to mention refraining from mentioning that he was who he was, especially being from Gondor. The people of Rohan and the people of Gondor don't _hate_ each other, per say, but they could do to get along a little better. I imagined it would be best to just make up a fake name for Boromir, and just tell them that he was hurt, needed help, and we would be gone in two to three days, maximum. I hoped that would give Aragorn and the others enough time to find us, and deal with the task at hand of helping Théoden. I was going to have to come across as _very_ convincing, if this was going to work. I had already done all I could so far, by abandoning my things, which would help the questioning of my weird appearance a little less.

I hoped.

* * *

True to his word, as the next hour came to a close, Boromir pointed ahead of us in the distance. I had to squint, but I thought I could see something.

"There," Boromir said, his voice raised against the wind. I had eased the horse into a steady canter as we began to come to the end of our journey to Edoras. I found the steady beat of the animal's hooves strangely soothing, and I had figured out how to best not get thrown off. Still scared me shitless when the horse began to gallop, however, and I had to slow him down.

"Can you see it?" Boromir asked as we came to the top of a hill. "There, in the distance, atop the great hill." I could see it. Reminiscent of the city called "Whiterun" from _Skyrim_ (no doubt _Bethesda_ had taken influences from _The Lord of the Rings_ when making the popular video game), I could see the great Longhouse atop the hill, and the city sprawling beneath it. I could see the small farms and pastures that dotted the landscape, and the dusty roads that connected them all.

Edoras; home to the King of Rohan.

I could almost hear the Rohan theme from _The Two Towers_ start playing in my mind as we began to descend the hill, our horse beginning to gallop at a breakneck speed, probably glad to be home. I had to slow it down quickly when I heard Boromir gasp behind me. I didn't want to aggravate his injuries any more than they had already been from being on horseback for the last twenty-four hours.

It took maybe another twenty minutes to actually reach the gates of Edoras. We passed the farms we saw from a distance, and I could see blond, scruffy looking people watching us from their homes, and coming out to get a better look. Seeing a young woman who obviously wasn't from around here, coupled with a man who clearly wasn't of Rohan, riding in on a horse that clearly _was_ from Rohan, probably looked really weird to them. As we approached the gates of Rohan, I quickly turned to look back at Boromir.

"Put your hood up," I commanded.

He fixed me with a quizzical, and suspicious stare. "Pardon?"

"Put your hood up, trust me." I said again, glancing back towards the gates. We weren't quite upon them, but I could see that there were two or three guards standing watch. The gates were open, but not yet to us. "Just do me a favor, and trust me, okay? Aragorn said we could lie if we needed to, in order to get in, so that's what we're going to do. I've thought this out obsessively since this morning, so just trust me." Man, I hoped this worked. Please, please, please, let this work.

Boromir didn't question me anymore, and put up his hood, hiding his face. I think he was in too much pain by now to really argue with me. I knew the ride had jostled his ribs a little and, while that was awful and I felt really bad that he was in pain, the more convincingly injured he looked, the better. I was definitely going to Hell for even thinking that.

We approached the gate, and we were greeted by two guards. I held my breath; now was the moment I had been anxiously fretting about for several hours. The guards walked up, clothed similarly to Éomer and his men, and they carried deadly looking sword, and wore helmets with the intricate designs of Rohan upon them.

"Halt," said the one on the left, "State your names and your business in Rohan." He had a very "no-nonsense" type voice, and I could see two, piercing green eyes from under his helm.

I quickly climbed down from the horse, and noted how their swords immediately pointed at me as I did. I had to be very careful now, and my anxiety was threatening to take over, and mess this all up. _Calm it, Kayla, you can do this,_ I told myself.

"My name is Kayla," my voice shook a little as I spoke, and I gestured lamely to Boromir, who was still seated on the horse, his hand how firmly on his ribs, and from what I could see of his face, his expression was pained. "This is Strider, my friend. He is injured, and desperately needs a healer. I think some of his ribs are broke, and he was shot in the chest with an arrow about four or five days ago." I felt Boromir shift at the use of the name "Strider" – I couldn't think of anything else to call him, other than that. I hoped that, in a place like Rohan, no one knew the name Strider, and rather knew the name "Aragorn". I hoped, at least.

Upon seeing the two giving me scrutinizing looks, I quickly pressed on. "We were traveling to Gondor, from the North, and came across a group of monsters roaming the plain."

"Monsters?" The guard on the right interrupted me. "What form of monsters?"

I tried to keep my voice as level as possible as I continued, "Big, black creatures. With armor, and weapons. They were running on foot, heading northeast. We ran into them by accident and—"

"Orcs," the guard on the left said to the guard on the right, who nodded, and they both returned their attention to me.

I blinked, taken aback by all the interruptions. I guess it was to be expected. We _had_ just ridden up on a horse that belonged to Rohan, after all. "Yes, I guess that's what they were, but they were bigger, and much more terrifying, if that's even possible." Another deep breath, and a gesture to Boromir. "We were on our way to Gondor, when we stumbled across these creatures. They saw us, but did not stop. They seemed to be heading in a specific direction. One drew back an arrow, and shot my companion, here, and they just kept going. They didn't even stop to see if the arrow hit." My eyebrows knitted together as I heard Boromir hiss softly, his hand still on his ribs. "I did my best to keep the wound from festering, but I can't do anything for broken ribs." I was met with more silence, so I quickly finished up. "Please, we didn't intend to come to Edoras, but my friend needs healing. I'm only asking to spend a few nights, two or three maximum, with a healer, so he can rest and get help, and we will be off again. I swear to you."

At that moment, Boromir slid off the horse, and landed on the ground next to me, a little harder than I think he intended, because his knees buckled, and I grabbed at him. I nearly cried out, "Boromir!" but stopped myself before I could. They didn't need to know who he was; not yet anyway.

I turned back to the guards now; the one on the right had taken the reins of the horse, and removed the back off the back with our belongings in them. He handed the bag to me, and I swung it over my shoulder, while watching the other guard. He was surveying me with interest, and mild suspicion now. After a moment's pause, he spoke.

"Famon will take this horse to the stables. It is clearly a horse of Rohan, and must be returned," he gestured to the guard now holding onto the horse. "You will then follow him to speak with Captain Hàma of the King's Guard. I will escort your friend to the Healer. You may look for your companion there after you have spoken with the Captain." I barely had enough time to agree, before Boromir was led away by the nameless guard into Edoras, and I was left with the other guard I assumed was called Famon. I stared after them, feeling a knot forming in my stomach. I prayed the guard was actually taking Boromir to the healer, and not to some dungeon for questioning. I bit down a worried retort, as Famon gestured for me to follow him into the city.

We entered through the gates, and I stopped and stared in amazement. While Edoras, and Rohan itself, was not the most beautiful of places in Middle-Earth, it still had always fascinated me. The architecture was influenced heavily by horses, and Norse design, and it was so damn cool to see it in person.

I hardly got a chance to ogle too much, before Famon was ushering me along, and I trotted after the guard towards the stables, where he handed the horse off to someone I assumed was the stable-hand, and they shared a few whispered words, both occasionally looking at me. I felt my cheeks flush, and I knew it was probably because of how I was dressed, and how Boromir and I had made such a grand entrance into Rohan itself.

After a few more minutes of hushed whispers, Famon turned and nodded to me, and I took that as a sign to follow him, and I hurried to keep up with him. We walked up the old, stone path that led up through the city, and towards what I guessed was the barracks.

We came to the large, wooden doors of the barracks, and Famon knocked once, before the doors open, and a man with strawberry blonde hair, and a large beard answered. I recognized him immediately as the man who had tried to take Gandalf's staff in the movie. If I recalled correctly, he ended up being a pretty decent guy in the end.

"Captain Hàma," Famon said, his voice just as gruff as the other guard's had been. "This woman has just arrived in the city with a man she calls Strider. She claims they ran into a group of Orcs out in the plains, and her companion was shot with an arrow. The man, Strider, is evidently injured, and has been taken to the healer, but the woman wishes to remain in the city for a few days' time, in order for her companion to heal." He then whispered something I couldn't hear to Hàma, and the Captain of the guard watched me the entire time. Once finished, Famon saluted once, nodded to me, and descended the steps back into the city. Now I was left alone with Hàma, and was feeling pretty nervous.

Hàma was watching me for a moment, before smiling thinly at me. He gestured for me to follow him into the barracks, and I obliged as quickly and quietly as possible. The doors swung shut behind us, and I was plunged into darkness for a second. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. There were only torches along the walls for light, and it was such as stark contrast to the electricity and lightbulbs I was used to at home, that I was left feeling a little overwhelmed.

It was when Hàma spoke that I was jolted back to the cold reality I was in. "As you might know, I am Captain Hàma of the King's Guard." He had seated himself at a wooden desk strewn with papers and quills. He motioned for me to sit in the chair across from him. "What might I address you as, my Lady?" Again with the "Lady" thing. I guess even when I was being questioned, people were still polite. What a difference from the modern world.

"Kayla," I answered, my voice shaking slightly.

His smile didn't reach his battle-worn eyes. "Lady Kayla, then. 'Tis an odd name." He noted, his eyes on me.

I flushed, "My parents were creative people."

Again with the cool smile. "Indeed." He leaned back in his chair, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Famon tells me you were ambushed by Orcs, correct?"

 _Well, yeah, I was right there when he told you that_. "Yes, that's right."

"And you were journeying to Gondor with your companion when he was shot?"

"Yes, sir."

"These, _Orcs_ , they paid you no mind after your friend was injured?"

"No, sir, they just kept running."

"And then you found your way here?"

"Yes."

"On horseback?"

"Yes."

Hàma's mouth curved in a small, knowing smile. "You are aware you rode to Edoras on the back of a horse of the Rohirrim, yes? The Rohirrim has been banished from Edoras. Did you know this?"

I felt my stomach tighten into knots. This was what I had been fearing. I took a breath. Time to lie like a drunken man being questioned by the cops. "I didn't know the horse was of the Rohirrim, sir; and I didn't know they had been banished." I could practically feel my nose growing with each word. "After Strider was wounded, we began to make our way south, towards Edoras. We had originally intended to head for Gondor, as were hoping to see the famed White City," Hàma waved a hand; he didn't care why we had been heading for Gondor – he just wanted to know about the horse, and why we had had it. I cleared my throat. "I knew he needed help, and he would need it long before we reached Minas Tirith. So, we decided to head for Edoras first, instead."

"And here you are," Hàma said, his eyes watching my every movement. "About the horse, my Lady."

I blushed, and took a breath again, trying to keep my voice steady. "We found it, sir. Well, technically it found us. It was running alone in the fields, with no rider. The rider was likely dead, we figured." I saw Hàma's eyes flit to my face as I said this. "We didn't know who the horse belonged to, since there was no sign of anyone around," I pressed on, "but we needed a faster way to get to Edoras. We guessed the horse was from Rohan, and since you said that the horse was of the Rohirrim, the man who had been its former master must have been of the Rohirrim, as well. Lucky for us, the horse knew its way back, and here we are." I finished, taking a breath, and watching Hàma with somewhat pleading eyes. When he said nothing, I added quickly. "We only have the weapons my companion carries. I don't have any. I only ask that he gets the help he needs, and then we will be on our way. He only needs two, maybe three days to rest, and then we will be gone. I swear it."

Hàma was quiet for a moment, before he slowly leaned forwards, and regarded me with his pale eyes. "You will forgive me, my Lady, if I have trouble believing your tale."

I felt my heart drop like a stone. Crap. "I understand it sounds crazy," I said softly, "But if you would only just…" I trailed off when Hàma help up a hand to silence me.

"However, you are not the first to bring us reports of those monstrous creatures patrolling our borders. We face our own peril's here in the capital." He leaned back, watching me. "Saruman's shadow creeps through every corner of Edoras." There was a pause, and I held my breath. "The city mourns the loss of the King's son, Théodred."

I paled. Had that happened already? I felt a stab of guilt – could there have been something I could have done to help prevent that from happening? "The King's son is dead?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even, but I felt really bad now. Poor Théoden.

Hàma nodded, his face grave. "An Orc ambush, much like your own. The White Hand does not go unnoticed, my Lady." I knew Hàma could only say so much, seeing as he was still loyal to the King and, unbeknownst to him, Saruman himself, at this point.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, trying to look as innocent as possible. "A lot of people have died because of those monsters, and this White Wizard of Isengard."

Hàma nodded once, still watching me. "The Orcs have taken far too many lives, and injured too many. I fear…" His voice trailed off, and I wondered if he was going to talk about this King's potential possession, but seemed to think better of it. "It is no matter." He stood now, and I stood quickly as well. "These are dark times, Lady Kayla," he said ominously. "But, we can allow you to remain in Edoras for but three days, as requested, until your friend is better taken care of. Despite the corruption in the land around us, if we do not aid one another as best we can, then we are not fit to be called Men." A noble, decent guy, I knew it. I began to thank him, but he held up a hand to silence me again, and I bit my tongue in order to shut up. "However, I must ask that you surrender any weapons you possess to the city guard until your departure. Precautions, you understand."

Boromir wasn't going to be happy about that, but I agreed quickly. "Yes, I understand completely, thank you, Captain Hàma." He nodded once, and I felt a tiny smile form on my face. "We will be gone as soon as we came, I promise. My companion and I thank you for your city's compassion. It doesn't go unnoticed."

Hàma walked me to the door, and opened it for me, allowing the sunlight to come pouring in, temporarily blinding me. "Do not mistake our allowance of your remainder as an act of trust, my Lady." I started at his words, and he continued without pause. "While we are allowing you remain and let your friend heal, you would do well to keep to your own selves while you are here. The city faces its own demons, and would do you no credit to involve yourselves in those matters. Understood?" Hàma didn't say this unkindly, but I took his words to heart. He was helping us a lot by letting us stay here for a few days, but he didn't want his hospitality to go to waste. Essentially, he was telling me, "You better not fuck me over, Lady." And I wouldn't.

I nodded quickly. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir." I hurried out of the door, and as I did, Hàma called after me.

"You may remain in the Healing House with your friend while the two of you are here. It is fairly empty, and perhaps you can give your services to Healer Aedre for your friend. She has our own people to tend to, as well, and should not be required to aid only an outsider."

I nodded once more to him, and he pointed me in the direction of the Healing House. I took off down the steps, Boromir's bag banging against my hip as I ran through Edoras to find my Gondorian companion. As I ran, I thought I could hear the distinct jingle of my keys from within the bag. A distant sound to represent a distant land that I had no idea if I would even live to see again.

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 **A/N:** **I am a writing** _ **machine**_ **today! Longest chapter yet! I hope you all enjoyed this one! I really loved being able to delve into more original ideas for this story, rather than keeping Kayla only with the Fellowship while they traipse through Fangorn. I found this chapter a** _ **lot**_ **easier to write than the last. Woo! Hope you all liked it! R &R, please!**


	7. Among Healers and Horses

**A/N:** **Hey, lovelies! First let me say a big "Thank you" to everyone who has been fav'ing, following, and reviewing! Makes me glad to know there are people out there who enjoy reading my drabbles. Secondly, I apologize for not updating for a few days – been very busy socially. However, I have the next few days off, so I plan to get this chapter, and maybe one more, done by next week! Until then, please continue to R &R, and enjoy! **

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**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Seven:**

 **Among Healers and Horses**

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I scurried through Edoras as quickly as I could, making my way to the Healing House where Boromir was. It was already close to mid-afternoon, had I to guess, and I knew the sun would be setting again soon. It always got so bloody dark here. Without the light pollution from the modern world that I was used to, the nights in Middle Earth were so dark I couldn't even see my own hand in front of my own face without lighting a fire first. Especially without my glasses on, it was very hard to see, and I would be squinting into the dark in no time.

I finally came to a large, wooden structure, which I assumed was the Healing House. I wasn't too sure, however, since all the buildings in Edoras looked the same. They all had the same, wooden panels, intricate horse designs, and large doors. I could feel people watching me as I stood there, staring at the building, probably looking like an idiot. I approached the door slowly, and gently opened it a crack. No sooner had I done so, did the door fly open, and I was nearly knocked off my feet. I stepped back quickly, trying to catch my footing on the straw covered, stony ground, before I came face to face with a woman who was probably in her mid-forties.

"Och, there ye are!" She had a thick accent, which sounded a little like Irish, or maybe Scottish, but I supposed it must have been of Rohan, considering where we were. Duh. "I've been waitin' for ye for an hour!" She was about a half a head taller than me, with pale, straw colored hair, tied up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, with a few strands flying away in the air. Her dress was a dull brown, much like the other clothing worn by the women in Edoras, and she had on a faded, white apron.

I blinked, at a loss for words. "Uh… What?" I was still trying to regain my balance after nearly being knocked over.

The woman huffed, and suddenly reached out, grabbing my arm, and yanking me within the building. "Don' be dim, girl!" She fixed me with pale, stormy eyes. "I am Healer Aedre."

Realization dawned on my face, and I felt my cheeks flush for what felt like the millionth time since I had arrived in Middle Earth. "Oh; oh I'm sorry," I babbled, waving my hands around like a fool. "I'm Kayla."

Aedre rolled her eyes, letting go of my arm, and wiping her hands on her apron. It took me a second to notice that, when she wiped them, they left copper stains, and I realized they had blood on them. I looked down at my arm and, to my horror, saw that her fingers had left small, red smudges on my skin. She seemed to notice my terror, and Aedre laughed.

"Och, that blood isn't mine, girl. It's your friend's." I think she meant the statement to make me feel better, but it only made me want to puke even more. I felt my heart catch at the mention of Boromir and, evidently, the sight of his blood.

"Is Boro – I mean, is Strider alright?" I caught myself quickly. I had nearly let slip who Boromir was. "Is he going to be alright?" I gestured weakly to the blood on Aedre's hands, and now on my forearm, as well.

Aedre blinked, before looking down at her hands, and she let out a loud laugh, causing me to jump in surprise. "Ah, yes girl, he is going to be just fine." I let out a sigh of relief as she continued. "A broken rib, and two bruised on the right side, and the arrow wound dinna' fester. He is very lucky." When she smiled, I saw she was missing one of her canines, and I forced myself to smile back as best I could. "Whatever you did to treat the wound, it most likely saved his life. Ye are in his debt, I am sure." I nodded once, and Aedre smiled at me again, before fixing me with a hard gaze.

"Ye clothes aren't something I've ever seen, and ye covered in dirt girl!" She gestured to all of me, and I glanced down. She was right; I hadn't bathed in God knows how long, and I could tell even by not touching it that my hair was probably absolutely disgusting by now. It felt very stringy and limp, and I knew there was probably a layer of dust, dirt, and grime on my skin, not to mention my clothes probably looked weird as hell by comparison to anything here.

I tried to shrug it off. "My clothing was custom; made by a friend of my mother's," I tried to sound casual, and pressed on quickly when Aedre's eyebrows shot up. "You are right, however, I haven't properly bathed in days. Or changed my clothes." I looked down at my shoes, and noted how well they had held up since coming here. I glanced back up at Aedre, adding quickly. "Captain Hàma has said my friend and I can stay here for a few days?"

Aedre pursed her lips in something of a smile. "I thought so," she said, before gesturing behind her. "I gathered a few things together in case the Captain agreed. He isn't one to turn away injured travelers, especially if one is a woman, even in dark times such as these." Aedre regarded me with what I guessed was supposed to be kindness, but she still kind of scared me. Those eyes were so pale. "Ye friend is sleeping right now; he is best not to be disturbed while he rests. I cleaned his wounds not long ago, and there is still some warm water left." She pointed to a door on the other side of the hall that stood slightly ajar. "You can bathe there, if you like, and there are extra clothes in there, as well. There are some bottles along the wall – ye can use them to try and fix that hair." She chuckled lightly, and I absently touched my disgusting hair. "When yer done, yer room is two doors down." We were interrupted when I heard a loud, coughing fit erupt from somewhere in the Healing House. Aedre's eyes flicked in the direction, and she began to hurry away, calling to me over her shoulder as she did. "There are extra bandages for yer friend's injury. If ye can, you should change them when he wakes – to keep it clean. I think ye can take it from here, girl." She nodded once, before disappearing into a room across the hall. As the door closed behind her, the coughing subsided slightly, and I was left in the cool, dark silence of the Healing House.

I took in my surroundings now, straining my eyes to see in the dim light of yet another structure of Rohan. Like the barracks where I had met with Hàma, the only light source was that of several torches along the walls, and an oculus in the vaulted ceiling. Since it was still day time, the oculus gave off a little more light than had been in the barracks, but not much. I knew once the sun set, the Healing House would be nearly pitch black, with only the light of the torches to provide anyone with the ability to see, and the only warmth, save for the small hearth in the center of the room.

Along the walls there were doors, which I assumed led to the other patients, sick or wounded, within the Healing House. I glanced across the hall, to the door that still stood ajar, and sighed. I guess it was time finally clean myself off after days out in the wilderness. My sore muscles would thank me for the hot water, I was sure of it. I scurried across the hall, into the room, and shut the door behind me.

I turned and was greeted with the sight of the "bath". The room looked similar to the rest of the Healing House, and the other buildings in Rohan: it was square, wooden, and dimly lit. There were three torches on three of the walls, and wooden boxes and book cases about the room. I guessed this may have been where Aedre kept her books on healing, or something? In the center of the room, there was a wooden basin, about the size of half the size of a regular bathtub back home. It came up to nearly my upper thigh, and was filled with surprisingly clean looking water, save for a few specs of dust here and there, and possibly bits of wood from the basin/barrel thing.

I only had to stick my finger in the water once to know it wasn't anywhere near as hot as I would have liked, but it was definitely warm; much warmer than the river water I had previously attempted to bathe myself in, anyway. I knew I was going to have to make do with washing my whole body, and hair, with just this basin of water, and decided it may be best to try and wash my body outside of the basin first, so I could use the rest of the water to rinse my hair out. To my right, there were dresses draped over a chair, similar to the one that Aedre had been wearing, but minus the apron, what looked like underwear, and some kind of cloth I guessed could be used to bind down my breasts as a form of bra. There were also three pairs of shoes, all different in size, but not in fashion. They looked like they were made of suede, or some kind of leather, and were tough to the touch, with hardly any insoles. I cringed at that; my flat feet wouldn't be too happy about that. Then again, I _did_ need to blend in – so I couldn't really complain too much. This woman was giving me her clothes to wear, for heaven's sake.

Or maybe they were the clothes of those who had died in the Healing House.

I shuddered, and tried not to think about it as I made my way to the basin. I looked around for somewhere to hang my clothes, and elected to just hang them over the same chair as the dress. There was also a rather large piece of wool-like material draped over the side of the basin, which I guess would be used as a form of towel once I was done cleaning myself off. I cracked my back, and fingers. It was time to try this out.

I stripped down completely naked, and folded my filthy clothes over the chair, careful not to let them touch the clean ones. I approached the basin slowly, taking care not to step on any stray bits of wood, and potentially get a sliver in my foot. In this world, that could mean death. I now stood before the basin, and glanced around, wondering if there was any soap of anything I could use; I also desperately needed to shave. I remembered I still had my toiletry kit, and dug it out of Boromir's satchel, opening it and taking out my razor. Okay, one down. Now to find shampoo and soap.

I noticed a small, clay bowl on the ground, with something rough, and slightly wet sitting in it. I picked it up and, upon further examination, discovered that it was, in fact, soap. Well, sort of. It was way rougher than any soap I had ever seen or used. It felt almost like that _St. Ives Blemish Control_ facial scrub I used sometimes back home, all grainy and such. I guessed it would work alright for my skin, but it may leave it a bit red. I glanced to my left and, sure enough, there was a shelf with a few little bottles, all filled with different liquids, and figured that was what Aedre was referring to for washing my hair. I picked up one, and open it tentatively, and sniffed.

It didn't really smell like anything, amazingly. It had an almost ashy quality to it, and looked almost like a muddy powder. I wondered how well this would be to clean my hair, but I did want to risk letting my hair get any grosser than it already was. I carried the bottle over to the basin, and placed it on the ground next to the "soap".

I ended up deciding to wash my hair first, and would wash the rest of my body with the remaining water. Thankfully, my hair was just greasy, and not really "dirty", per say, so when I dunked my head into the basin, nearly choking as the lukewarm water filled my nose and ears, only a few specs of dirt could be seen.

I gasped, sitting back, and feeling the water running down my back and onto the dusty floor beneath me. My head was totally soaked now, and I knew I was ready to wash my hair.

I grabbed blindly for the bottle of stuff I was about to put in my hair, and dumped a bit into my hands. It felt kind of mushy and yet dry at the same. Maybe it was a kind of dry shampoo-like thing? I knew I was just going to have to grit my teeth and bear it, or else I'd be stuck being gross for who knows how much longer.

I lathered the stuff into my hair as best I could, trying hard not to get any in my eyes, lest I go blind. I took the "soap" out of its little bowl, and balanced it on the rim of the basin, while using the bowl to scoop water up, and gently run it through my hair, rinsing the stuff out. I washed my hair one more time after that, just to make sure, and rinsed it out as best I could, before putting the bowl down. I then wrung my hair out, and shook my head a few times to get the water out of my ears. I could already feel my hair starting to curl, even though it was still sopping wet. I probably looked like a drowned poodle.

I then stepped into the basin, and the water, now a little more hazy due to my hair being rinsed into it several times, came up to just above my knees. I sat down, and the water splashed over the sides a little, and I allowed it to come up to my neck, nearly completely covering my body. I sat there for a few seconds, curled up in the water, before quickly grabbing the soap thing from the rim of the basin, and scrubbed my body. It hurt a little, and definitely did leave my skin looking red, but it actually cleaned me off relatively well. I had to admit, I was impressed. So what if it didn't smell like coconut and angel butts, it still cleaned as well as any other soap I had used. Well, okay, maybe not one hundred percent as well, but well enough considering where I was.

I washed my face, arms, legs, back, breasts, privates (carefully, seeing how rough the damn thing was), and, lastly, my feet, which desperately needed it. I mentally noted that I was going to have to wash them one more time after getting out of the bath, since my feet would touch the dirty ground again, and I didn't want to be wearing those leathery shoes with dirty feet. Ew.

I used the same little bowl to rinse my body off, using the same water, which by now was looking a little dirtier, but not by much, considering I _had_ been fully clothes the whole journey here. I then carefully used my razor to shave my armpits and legs, not even bothering with _other_ areas, seeing as I had no shaving cream to speak of. No protection from cuts and stuff? No thank you.

Once I was pretty much cleaned off, I stepped back out of the basin, shivering, and grabbed the cloth from the chair, wrapping it around myself. I dried off my body, and tousled my hair in the towel, getting more of the water out of my hair. I then strode across the room, and picked up the underwear-like thing. It was surprisingly soft, and felt like cotton or something, which I was grateful for, since that meant I wouldn't itch in… _Places._ I pulled it over my legs, and then used the other piece of cloth to bind down my breasts as best I could to protect them from what I knew was going to be an _itchy as hell_ dress. It felt like one of those sacks people used to bag potatoes. This was _not_ going to be fun.

I stuffed my bra, underwear, leggings, socks, skirt, and shirt into Boromir's satchel. Thankfully their materials were all fairly thin, so they were easy to stuff into a smaller space. I hoped Boromir wouldn't mind. Maybe I could see if I could get a satchel of my own while I was here, and that way I could carry my own stuff without using Boromir as a pack-mule, so to speak.

I pulled the dress over my head and, sure enough, it was itchy as hell, just as I had predicted it would be. I readjusted it a few times, trying to get used to it, but I knew I wouldn't anytime soon. I would just have to deal with it until I could either find new clothes, wash my old ones, or buy some somehow. I then walked back to the basin, washed my feet again quickly, dried them off, and put on the biggest pair of shoes that were there. They fit pretty snugly, but I knew I would get blisters pretty soon from wearing them. I made a mental note to wash my socks as soon as I could, and wear them while I wore the shoes. I also would make sure to keep my sneakers handy, just in case.

The last thing I did before exiting the room was pull my brush and compact mirror out of my toiletry kit, and yank the brush through my hair. I then fished a hair elastic I never used and a few bobby pins I always kept in the bottom of the toiletry kit out of the bottom in order to try to tame my already curling mass of hair.

I propped the mirror open, and quickly French braided my bangs off to the side, and pinned them with one bobby pin. I then brushed my hair back and tied it with the elastic, before pinning a few stray parts away with the other two bobby pins. Since my hair was wet, it was a little easier to attempt to style, and this was the most styled my hair had been in ages. Once I was relatively satisfied with my appearance, and feeling much cleaner than I had in days, I quickly brushed my teeth with, drinking the remaining water from Boromir's flask to rinse out my mouth, before I gathered my things together, and exited the room, carefully closing the door behind me. I glanced around – I guess the sun had set while I was in the bath. The oculus's light was now a fading orange glow, and I was beginning to feel tired. I walked left out of the room, two doors down, and came to what I was told was where I would be staying. I opened the door, and stepped into the room.

Again, very dimly lit – not a surprise anymore. This room only had one torch, and it was about half the size of the room where I had washed myself. There were two beds, opposite one another on either side of the room. I noted the sleeping and still Boromir in the bed on the left. I felt a small, happy smile form on my face. He looked just as exhausted as he had been when we had arrived in Edoras, but his skin had more color to it now, and he looked like he had also bathed as I had. His shirt was off, and nearly his entire middle was wrapped in gauze, and I could see there was a clear solvent seeping through the bandages around his middle and ribs, probably to keep the skin from swelling. There was a patch of gauze on his chest, as well, where he had been struck with the arrow. It didn't look like it was bleeding anymore, and the skin I could see didn't look as angry as it had before. I guess the Polysporin had worked, after all.

He seemed to be in a deep sleep, so I carefully crept across the room to my own bed, and sat down. No sooner had my body relaxed onto the mattress, did my muscles and body very nearly give out. I felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over me, and I slowly lay down on the bed. It had been so long since I had slept on something more than grass or rocks, and to be laying on a bed, even if it was a little lumpy in places, felt like heaven on earth to me. I leaned my head back on the pillow, and closed my eyes, feeling my body begin to drift into slumber. Just as I was about to fall asleep, there was a voice in the dark.

"Kayla?"

I just about had a heart attack. My eyes flew open, and I gasped in surprise, my head snapping in the direction of the voice, only to find Boromir had awoken, and had his head turned towards me, grey eyes glinting in the torchlight.

I placed a hand over my heart, which was banging against my breastbone. "Oh, God, Boromir!" I thumped my chest, trying to get my heart to restart. "You scared me!"

He let out a weak laugh, "I apologize; I did not mean to frighten you."

I shook my head, trying to smile good-naturedly. "It's alright; you just startled me, is all." I sat up a little bit, trying to get a better look at him in the darkness. "How are you feeling? You look a little better."

A small shrug, followed by a wince. "I am… Feeling better, Lady Kayla." He noted the look I gave him, and Boromir let out another tired laugh. "Kayla," he said, and I smiled slightly.

"That's good. Aedre said you only had one broken rib, and your arrow wound didn't get infected."

He nodded, slowly turning his head back so that he was looking at the ceiling. "Indeed; I have you to thank for that, Kayla." He glanced sidelong at me, and I smiled a little wider.

"I'm just glad you're doing better." I lay back down slowly, so that I was now looking at the ceiling too. "I'm sorry I lied about your name to the guards – I didn't know if it would be a good idea for them to know who we were – well, who you were, just yet. At least not until Aragorn and the others get here, anyway."

Boromir didn't say anything, but I heard a grunt and assumed he was nodding. I glanced back over at him, taking note of the deep, purple bags under his eyes. "You look exhausted." I heard him let out a weary sigh in response.

"I haven't slept in a proper bed in weeks," there was a pause, followed by another short chuckle, "Unless you count sleeping in a hollow tree in Lothlórien as sleeping in a bed."

I had to chuckle myself at this. Boromir didn't know it, but I knew exactly what he was talking about. "I don't know if sleeping in a hollow tree counts as a bed."

"It does to the elves."

We both looked at each other, and laughed. I had to admit, it was nice being able to just relax and talk with Boromir. I still barely knew him – the real him, not the one from the stories – and it was a nice change of pace to not be running across empty terrain, and sleeping on the ground. He seemed a little less on edge now too. Maybe it was because he'd had a chance to rest a bit.

I decided to call him on it. "You seem a little happier, Boromir."

There was a silence that followed my statement, and I wondered for a moment if he had heard me. I was about to repeat myself, when he answered. "I have faith in Aragorn, and in the little ones. I do not believe they met their fate along with the Orcs."

That comment was met with an awkward silence. I couldn't even imagine how Boromir must be feeling right now. I mean, he was supposed to be dead – he never even had a chance to try and help rescue his friends in the books, or movies, let alone have enough strength to feel or comprehend the immense guilt he was probably feeling right now. I rolled over so I was looking at him again, propping myself up on one elbow.

"So do I," I tried to sound reassuring. "Aragorn is very capable – he'll find them, Boromir. I'm sure they're alright." When he didn't answer, I added, "We live in a world filled with a lot of scary things – the only thing we can do to make it better is to continue to have hope; even during the unknown."

Boromir stared ahead for a few moments, before turning to look at me. His grey eyes were sad, but there was also a grateful aspect to them. "Thank you," was all he said, and I smiled.

"You're welcome."

He threw me a half smile, before adjusting slightly, and wincing. I took that as my queue to change his bandages on his shoulder. I climbed out of bed, and walked across the room. "Aedre told me to change your bandages on your arrow wound once you woke up – let's get that over with now, and then you should rest more." Boromir nodded, and sat up carefully.

"She used what is in that vial on the shelf. It burns like dragon-fire, but I believe it is working." He gestured to the shelf next to his bed, and there was a small vial with clear liquid in it, and a few clean bandages beside it. I took them both, and turned back to Boromir, gesturing for him to take off the bandage on his shoulder. I didn't want to accidentally hurt him, if I could help it. Be slowly peeled the gauze off, and I nearly hissed again. While the wound looked exponentially better than before, it was still pretty gross. The arrow had gone deep, I could see that, and despite the skin around the area being less angry looking, it was still red. Not dirty anymore, thankfully, but still red and gross and painful.

I placed the bandages in my lap, and gently applied the clear liquid onto the wound directly. Boromir hissed once as I did, but said nothing. I moved my fingers around in a clockwise fashion, allowing the liquid to soak into the skin, before I began to put the new bandages on the wound. I did so slowly, and carefully, so as to not aggravate any more injuries the man might have.

As I worked, I could feel Boromir watching me in the torchlight. "You look different, Lady Kayla," I didn't even bother to correct his use of the term "Lady" this time, since I was so absorbed with dressing his wound.

"Hm?" I said absently.

A low chuckle. "You are dressed as a woman of Rohan would dress, and your hair looks shorter. Did you cut it?" He was genuinely curious, and it was oddly adorable to see a grown man so confused with my appearance.

I smiled as I leaned back, having finished my work on his injuries. "The dress is itchy – I miss my other clothes; I wish I had more with me. And my hair is just up, that's all." I showed Boromir the braid in my bangs, and my tiny ponytail at the base of my neck. I then stood, and walked back over to my bed, and lay down, closing my eyes. All I wanted to do was sleep. There was a silence in the room for a few minutes, before Boromir spoke again.

"I am sorry."

I opened one eye, "You're what now?"

There was a somewhat exasperated sigh from his side of the room. "I am sorry."

I opened my other eye, and glanced at him. "Why are you sorry?" I was a little confused – what was he on about?

Boromir let out a long, drawn out sigh, and turned his head to face me. "I became angry with you when you told Aragorn of my injuries – and when I realized I would not be going with him and the others in search of the little ones. I became angry with myself for being injured, and a weak man. My anger seeped into our journey to Edoras, and has affected you. For that, I am sorry."

I blinked, not sure of what to say in response. "Boromir, I –"

He held up a hand to silence me, much like Hàma had earlier. "I may have allowed the curse of the One Ring to corrupt my mind once, and turn me to anger, but that was once. I vow to not again allow my anger to control how I carry myself around others – especially a woman. I was unfair in my actions during our time to Edoras, Lady Kayla. Please, forgive me."

It was such a formal apology, that it was all I could do not to say something stupid in return. Instead, I just nodded my head a few times, and mumbled, "It's okay," a couple more, before Boromir seemed satisfied, and he turned back to face the ceiling.

"Everyone makes mistakes, you know," I said softly after about ten minutes of complete silence. I got a grunt in response, so I pressed on. "To err is human."

Boromir seemed to muse over that statement. "That is a nice sentiment, Lady Kayla." He paused, before repeating my words. "'To err is human'. I would do well to remember that."

I felt a smile tug at my mouth, "And, if you forget or get lost, just look to the mountains."

Boromir went deadpan, and he slowly turned to look at me. For a moment, I worried that I had upset him again, but as he looked at me, his face broke out into the first, real smile I had seen from him. I smiled back in return, before we both lay down to get some much needed rest, and regain our strength. We would need it in the days to come.

"Goodnight, Lady Kayla."

"Goodnight, _Lord_ Boromir."

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 **A/N:** **Aw, how cute! I know this one was a bit shorter, but I just wanted to write a cute little chapter kind of showing Boromir and Kayla's slowly progressing friendship as the story moves on. I wrote this one rather quickly, and I'm really tired, so I'm sorry if it feels rushed. I was just very excited to write more! Hope you all enjoyed! R &R, please! **


	8. Tall Tales

**A/N:** **Hey, all! Sorry for the lack of update in the last week – been very busy, yet again. Thank you to** _ **everyone**_ **who has been Fav'ing and Following – and Reviewing! Feeling very encouraged! I went and bought** _ **Tolkien: A Dictionary**_ **from the bookstore I work at today. It has a** _ **ton**_ **of lore, character bios, and descriptions inside – from all the stories of Middle-Earth and Arda! I am very excited to read it, and get as much cannon lore from the book-verse as possible for the coming chapters, as well as get back into the story itself soon. This chapter will mostly just consist of more development of Kayla as a character and, of course, her relationship with Boromir. Enjoy!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Eight:**

 **Tall Tales**

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I awoke slowly, and more peacefully than I had in over a week. I actually confused myself for a second, thinking that I was back home, upon waking up in a bed, rather than on the ground, as I had become accustomed to as of late.

The middle of my back was cradled relatively well against the mattress below me, and my head had sunk right into the pillow. Despite the bed not being of the same make as the ones back home (cloth stuffed with what I supposed was down [or feathers], or wool or cotton). Either way, it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the ground. Despite it not being the same bed as the one I had back home, it was still a nice change to actually have some support to the parts of my body that had been in constant pain rom laying on rocks and dirt for a week.

I peeked over the top of my woolen, and slightly furry, covers, and looked across the room. Boromir appeared to still be asleep, and I decided it would be best not to wake him just yet. The poor guy had been through enough as it was to be awakened at the crack of dawn by someone he had only just met. Although, after our conversation the previous night, I felt that maybe, just maybe, we could become friends after all.

As I looked around the room, I noted that the light that filtered through the boarded windows meant it must've been early morning – maybe around six or seven in the morning. It looked like a cool blue and, despite the sun being evidently up by now, the air was colder, and I could hear wind whistling through the boards. One thing I had always liked atmospheric wise about Rohan, was how windy it was. It made for lovely cinematography in the films, but a pain in the ass in real life. I was thankful my hair wasn't any longer, and relatively easy to tame, or else it'd be all over the place, as Éowyn's always had been in the films.

I rolled out of bed, as quietly as I could, and put my shoes back on. I flipped open my small mirror I had stashed away into Boromir's bag, and checked my hair, tucking a few loose fly aways back into the French braid in my bangs, and the teenie ponytail at the back of my head. I checked my teeth, and made a note to find some somewhat fresh water to drink and use to brush my teeth again later. I closed the mirror, put it back in the bag, stretched, cracked a few bones, and then crept from the room.

I wandered out into the hallway, and glanced around. There was no sign of anyone out and about in the Healing House, and I wondered if everyone was still asleep. I knew it wasn't ungodly early, but maybe these people slept in more than I thought? I looked both ways down the hall, and absently adjusted my dress and undergarments. God, was this dress ever _itchy_. I hoped I would be able to find another one that was less uncomfortable; and soon. Not that I wasn't grateful to Aedre for lending me clothes and a place to sleep, but still. Itchy dress – no fun.

My thoughts were interrupted when my stomach growled loudly, and I smiled fondly down at it. I hadn't had a proper meal that didn't consist of lembas bread, old tuna casserole, or rabbit in a week, and my body was crying out for a proper meal. Boromir and I hadn't eaten anything since arriving in Edoras, and I knew that he was probably hungry, just as I was. I decided now would be a good time to try and find some food.

I made my way across the hall, stepping around the hearth that was still smoking from the night before, though the flames had all but died out. I wondered vaguely if there was some sort of kitchen around that I could nab some food from, and bring back for Boromir, as well. It was moments like this that I really craved Fruit loops, or Pop Tarts, or something that wasn't bread and liquid. That really makes it sound gross when I word it like that… Ew.

As I drew nearer to the door to exit the Healing House, I began to hear the distant sounds of the outside world. I could hear voices, and the sounds of horses and people moving about outside. I slowly reached out, and pushed the doors open, flooding the Healing House with the cold light of morning. I had to momentarily shield my eyes as they began to burn after being kept inside a dimly lit hall for the last several hours. I wondered how long I had slept for as I stepped out of the Healing House, and into the streets of Edoras. I guessed it must've been about ten to twelve hours at the most, seeing as the sun had only just set, or begun to set, when I had laid down to sleep. Boromir and I had spent a long time traveling, and not getting proper sleep, and I knew he had been just as exhausted as I had been, perhaps even more so. I didn't know how long he had traveled before I had run into the Fellowship. A few weeks, most likely. Having only not slept in a proper bed for about a week, I knew I had it a lot easier than he did.

As I walked down the steps of the Healing House, I noted at how I still drew the attention of the inhabitants of Edoras, but not as much as I had before. Since now I was dressed like them, I stuck out a little less. I knew I still looked out of place, however, because of how pale I was, my shorter hair, and how dark said hair was. Not to mention my basically perfect, straight, white teeth. Seeing as people like Boromir and Aragorn both had a decent upbringing, they both had fairly good teeth, if a little crooked here and there. Elves, like Legolas, were perfect in basically every way, and even Hobbits, despite eating not to healthy at the best of times, had decent genes in the dental department. Gimli, however, and, I'm sure dwarves like him, did not have very good teeth. They weren't horrible, but they were still fairly crooked, and yellow in places. However, nothing compared to the less well-off folk of Rohan, particularly Edoras. So far, all I'd seen were yellow, crooked, and some very rotted teeth. The people still seemed kind, but they had _awful_ teeth. I wondered if that didn't have something to do with the lifespan of the people of Middle-Earth. Abscess is not a laughing matter. It's also gross as Hell.

As I wandered up the street, I wondered vaguely where I was going to find some food for both Boromir and I. I doubted very much that there would be anyone just giving food away, let alone to an outsider like myself. I also wondered how much longer it would be until Aragorn and the others got here, provided they still found Gandalf and traces of the Hobbits' whereabouts. Though I couldn't see it physically, I could feel the weight of evil on this city.

It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before in my life. I had been around bad people in the past: toxic friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, and family members; people who liked to manipulate others, and people who stole and committed other crimes. But even now, they did not compare to the feeling I got being in Edoras. I guess I hadn't noticed it yesterday when we had gotten here. We had been so tired and sore that all I had wanted to do was bathe and sleep. Now that I was awake, clean, and more alert, I was beginning to get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Upon looking up towards the Keep where I knew Théoden was, I could almost _see_ the black radiating from the building. It felt like there was a heavy weight on my shoulders, and my head was hurting. I could tell it was affecting the people of Edoras, as well, seeing as they moved more sluggishly, and with apprehension and doubt in their eyes. I hope Aragorn and Gandalf would get here soon, and end their suffering and fear.

I was about to the top of the steps that eventually led to the stairs leading to the Keep, when someone called out to me.

"Girl!" I didn't have to turn to know they were referring to me – that, and it sounded like Aedre. Sure enough, when I turned, I saw the woman standing at the base of the steps, looking up at me. She had on a grey-blue, faded dress today, and the same apron from the day before, with Boromir's copper blood stains still on it. I cringed, remembering how sick I had felt seeing his blood on my skin.

"What are ye doing out here?" Aedre asked, walking up to me. She had a basket in her hands, filled with vegetables, and bread. She also carried a wooden bucket filled with water, and had a pouch strapped to her hip, filled with that could only be spices, considering what I was smelling.

I drew my attention back to her, and saw she was watching me expectantly. I blushed, "Oh, I was actually looking for some food I could give to Bo – to Strider." Damn, I nearly slipped up again. "We haven't eaten a proper meal in a few days, and haven't eaten at all in over a whole day. He could use some food to help him heal." I shrugged lamely, and Aedre nodded once. She gestured to all that was ladled in her arms.

"I was on me way to the Healing House, girl. I dinna' expect you to be awake already, and wandering about. I am going to make a stew for the others in the House, and ye and yer friend are welcome to it, provided to help me make it, o' course." She winked, and I felt a little smile flitter across my face. Aedre was the kindest person I had met here so far.

"I can do that," I said, giving her my best smile, and she nodded, all business again.

"Righ', well let's be off to the Healing House again, shall we?" She turned on her heal, and strode away down the steps back towards the Healing House, with me scurrying along behind her.

"So," I huffed as I tried to keep up to Aedre. For a middle-aged woman carrying so much stuff, she was pretty quick on her feet. "What kind of stew are you making?"

Aedre glanced down at me as we walked, "Vegetable stew – you cut up the vegetables, boil tha' water, add spices, and it's done. There's also some bread an' mead for the others, as well. You would do well ta give some to ye friend; I'm sure he could use tha' strength." She winked, and I smiled slightly.

"Thank you for being so kind to me and my friend, Aedre." I said gently as we came back to the Healing House. Aedre pushed open the door, and we walked inside, immediately being swallowed by the darkness of the Main Hall.

The older woman shrugged as she put down all her things in the center of the hall, by the still slightly smoking hearth. "It is nothing, girl. We may be living in dark times, but it does not do well to let those we do not know suffer, as well." She gave me a hard smile, and I smiled back. "Yer friend needs the help, and you've been good a' keepin' him, even if it's only been fer a day. Speaking of which," She looked up, and I noted that she was taking in the light coming from the Oculus above us. What that how she was telling time? "After the stew is done, and you've brought it to him, ye should change his dressings again. Make sure they don' get infected." I nodded quickly and, seeming satisfied, Aedre disappeared from the hall for a moment, and came back with a large piece of iron, that she used to hang the large, cast-iron pot resting nearby over the fire. She then poured the water from the wooden bucket into the pot, and lit a fire in the hearth again. Once she had done this, she turned back to me.

"Take that knife, there," she motioned to a few knives sitting in a leather holder than was attached to the pouch she had worn on her hip. "Use it ta cut up some of the vegetables, while I boil the water. Once it's boiled, we'll add them in, and I'll add the spices. It'll be done soon, and you can bring it to yer companion." I nodded, and sat myself down by the hearth on a step, and began to cut the vegetables, peel them, and then place them into the bucket that had carried the water before.

I cut and peeled in silence as Aedre did the same, and occasionally stirred the water. After about ten minutes, she broke the silence, addressing me again.

"Where are ye from, girl?" She asked, and I started. I had been expecting this question at some point, but not so soon. I fumbled with the right words as I answered.

"Not from around here," I knew it was a vague answer, and I heard Aedre huff in response, and a blush started in my cheeks.

"Are ye from Gondor, like yer friend?" She asked again.

I squirmed, looking anywhere but at Aedre as I continued to peel. "No; I'm not from Gondor."

Another sigh. "Dale?"

That was in _The Hobbit_ , right? "No, ma'am."

She looked annoyed now. "Bree-Land?"

I decided to just cave in and lie. "Yes; I am from Bree-Land."

She raised an eyebrow, "Why dinna ye say so, girl!" She looked at me in both annoyance and disbelief.

I bit my lip, trying to look innocent. "I wanted to see if you could guess?" I tried to smile, and Aedre stared at me for a second, before throwing back her head and laughing. I was so surprised by her reaction that I laughed nervously along with her.

Once she had calmed, Aedre regarded me again with mirth in her eyes. "So, yer from Bree-Land, _and_ you enjoy being a little trickster?" I blushed, and she laughed again, shaking her head as she continued to peel a potato, before tossing it into the bucket. "So, tell me, girl, if yer from Bree-Land, a place of grass and farmlands, why are ye so pale? You don't look like ye've worked a day in yer life!" She gestured to my skin, and hands. "Yer skin is white like an elf's, and yer hands are soft like a little one's." She paused, suddenly looking at me strangely. "Are ye part elf, girl?"

I continued to slice up the carrot I was holding, not meeting her gaze. _Crap, crap, crap, crap!_ Was all that rang through my head. I glanced up from my carrot, and noticed Aedre was watching me expectantly. I put the carrot bits in the bucket, and slowly lowered my hands into my lap. I was going to have to be calm about this, were she to believe me.

"No, I am not part elf," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm so pale because I was very sickly as a child, and as such didn't go outside much. My mother kept me in the house, where I learned to read and write, as well as basic skills in healing, and how to sew and create works of art." Upon seeing the look Aedre was giving me, I pressed on. "Literature and art were important to my mother; she wanted to pass along her skills to me before she died. My father worked in the fields of our small farm outside of a small village near the town of Bree."

"Combe?" Aedre asked and, at a loss of any other village I knew, I nodded.

"Yes, Combe," I said, remembering the name vaguely from one of Tolkien's works or another. I hoped it was actually a village, and not a term of some sort, lest I sound completely insane. When Aedre didn't react to my use of Combe as a town, I inwardly relaxed, and continued on with my story. "So, after my mother died, my father let me continue to work in the house, working on my reading and art. I think he wanted to keep my safe, since I was all he had left. I don't know – I wish he had taught me more; helped me be more self-sufficient than I am now. I'd be more useful, and perhaps Strider wouldn't have gotten hurt." I looked back down at my hands, and reached for another vegetable, this time grabbing what looked like a turnip. Aedre was quiet for a moment as I began to peel again. Behind us, I could hear the water boiling in the pot. Aedre stood up, and took the vegetables we had peeled, and put them in the pot of boiling water. Once she had, she looked back at me.

"I am sorry about yer mother, girl," she said gently, coming back to sit down and continue peeling vegetables with me. "How did you meet your Gondorian friend? Does yer father know where ye are?"

I took a breath, trying to think of something. How the hell was I going to explain why I wasn't back at my home in "Combe"? Or thereabouts? Think, Kayla, think! What happened around there that would make sense… Oh.

The Nazgûl.

They had come into Bree itself, which meant there was a good chance they had come past Combe, and the surrounding areas, as well. As much as it felt wrong to kill off both my imaginary parents in Middle Earth, I knew I had little choice if my story were to make sense.

"There were these… Creatures." I began slowly, trying to look as though it was painful for me to talk about this out loud. "A few months ago, these creatures in all black came through the Farmlands, heading for Bree. They rode big, black horses, and carried sharp weapons. I didn't know what they were, but they looked like they were looking for something. A few days after I saw them, I heard about an attack in Bree – the gate was knocked clean down, and a few people were killed; apparently these creatures were to blame."

Aedre was watching me with what looked like bated breath. "What were they?"

I shrugged, trying to look a little off-put. "I don't know, but they felt evil. They had hoods, and they were monstrous." I looked down at my hands, "On the night they came through Bree-Land, my father went outside to see what was spooking the sheep and cow we had, and our horse was going crazy. He went outside and…" I looked up at Aedre, attempting to look as sad as I could. "He never came back in."

Aedre's hand flew to her mouth, and I felt a stab of guilt. I hated lying to this woman, since she had been so kind to Boromir and me, but I couldn't risk her knowing how I had truly gotten here. It would make no sense, and would likely lead to more questioning, not to mention suspicion and possible imprisonment.

"I am so sorry, girl," Aedre said quietly. "I have never seen or heard of creatures such as these before, but to feel an evil presence... I know how that is." She looked around, as though making sure no one was listening. "There is an evil here, girl. I feel it in my bones."

I nodded once, "I do too – I felt it when I was standing near the Keep, where King Théoden is. It worries me."

Aedre nodded once, before clearing her throat, and waving her hand, in an attempt to dismiss the conversation. "How did you meet your friend, girl?"

Ah, yes, the last part of my story. At least with this I could be more honest. "I left home; I didn't feel safe there anymore, not with that evil having come through." I tossed a peeled turnip into the bucket. "I went to Bree to get supplies before I left, and there I met Strider in the Prancing Pony. He told me he was heading to Gondor, to deliver a message to Steward Denethor about the evil creatures, having seen them himself when they came through Bree, and agreed to allow me to accompany him. He didn't know me, but he showed me kindness. I feel so awful that he's been hurt, and wanted to help him as best I could, which is why we came here on our way to Gondor."

Aedre was about to reply, when there was another loud cough, just as the day before, from somewhere in the Healing House. She stood quickly, dumping the rest of the vegetables into the stew. As she gathered her things together, she turned to me. "Stir the water for a few minutes, girl, then add two shakes of each spice in the bag. Once ye've done tha', take some in two bowls, for fer yourself, and one fer your friend, and take some bread and mead from the cask over there." She pointed across the hall. "I have to tend to the others here now. Make sure ta change his dressings, as well!" She then bustled off across the hall, through a door, and out of sight.

I watched her go, and turned my attention back to the pot. I had never made stew before, or soup, let alone anything for that matter, and I was a little nervous to try now. However, Aedre's instructions had been pretty clear, so I figured there was little way I could eff up soup. I hoped.

I waited a few minutes, before adding two shakes of each spice, and pouring it into two bowls. I had to admit, for soup made from just water, spices, and vegetables, it smelled pretty damn good. I grabbed two pieces of bread, and a mug of mead for Boromir, and some water for myself from a pitcher Aedre left by the soup, and carefully maneuvered myself towards our shared room.

I gently pushed the door open with my hip as I entered into the room. I strode across, placing Boromir's food and mead on the small table at the end of his bed, and then did the same with mine. I then began to search for the other clean bandages Aedre had mentioned had been laying around the room, when a voice made me jump.

"Good morning, Lady Kayla."

Again, I nearly leapt out of my skin.

"Christ's Sake, Boromir!" I yelped, clutching my chest. "I told you, you nearly scared me half to death last time you did that!" I turned, and found the Gondorian man sitting up in bed, with a tired smile on his face. His skin had more color to it today, and he looked much better than he had since I had met him. His grey eyes crinkled in the corners as he let out a weary chuckle.

"My apologies again, Lady Kayla." He slowly sat back down, and I sighed, massaging my temples.

"Just Kayla," I replied absently, as I moved across the room to grab the bandages I noticed were on a shelf near Boromir's bed. "Aedre, the woman letting us stay here, made some soup for us to have. She also gave me some bread and mead to give to you. She said you could use the strength you'd get from it." I heard a low laugh, and glanced back at him, a little smile on my face. "You're looking better today, Boromir."

He was leaning back on his elbows now, "I believe sleep was needed to achieve the bettering of my health."

I turned back, holding the new bandages in my hands. "I need to redress your wound. If you could please open your shirt." I took some of the stuff Aedre had given me to dress he wound the previous night, and applied it to the bandages, as well as my fingers, as Boromir opened his shirt, and carefully removed the old bandages. I heard him hiss when they caught on the skin, and I heard the sickening, sticky noise of cloth being pulled off healing, broken flesh. I had to stifle a noise of disgust, before I came and sat on the bed next to him again.

I gently applied more of the "ointment" on Boromir's wound, and then carefully applied the new bandages. As I did, I could feel him watching me.

"Did you sleep well?" He was making idle chit-chat to pass the time, and I didn't really mind.

"I did," I replied, "Best I've had in a week." I continued to wrap the bandages around his torso, and then gently tied a small knot to keep it still. "How's that feel?" Boromir nodded, looking satisfied with my work, and I smiled, getting up from the bed. "With any luck, Aragorn and the others should be here tomorrow, I hope. Then we can sort all this out, and you can continue on your journey." I moved across the room to get the food, and brought it over to him. He gratefully accepted it, and began to eat slowly as I brought my own over to my bed, and began to carefully eat the soup. It wasn't bad – not the best watery soup I'd ever had, but not the worst. At least we were getting some warm food, finally.

"Where will you go once Aragorn and the others return?" Boromir asked suddenly.

I looked up from my bowl of soup, and a little dribbled down my chin. Boromir's mouth twitched in the smile, and I felt my cheeks redden, as I quickly wiped my lips dry. I cleared my throat, looking down at my bowl and bread. "I hadn't really thought about it, to be honest." I admitted, swirling the wooden spoon I was using through the soup. "I suppose I could head for Gondor, to Minas Tirith, maybe. I've always wanted to see it."

Boromir nodded slowly, as I took a bite out of bread. "The White City is a glorious place." I could hear something in his voice.

I looked up, watching him over my bowl. "Do you miss it?"

Boromir's eyes flicked to me. "Minas Tirith?"

"Yes."

He looked down at his food. "I do – I miss the silver trumpets, welcoming me home, and the sound of the call of the city."

I fiddled with the bread I was holding. "Will you go back right away, when this is all over?"

He looked up at me. "I think so, yes. I have matters to attend to with my father and brother, as well as the guardsmen and soldiers. Despite the War of the Ring coming slowly to an end, the life of a Lord does not." He let out a bitter laugh, and my eyebrows knitted together in sympathy. After a moment, he looked at me, and there was a slight kindness in his grey eyes. "If you do venture to the White City, when I return, I would look for you, if I have a mind." When I raised an eyebrow in surprise, he added, "You have been very helpful to aid in my healing, and I would repay it by seeing you comfortably housed in Minas Tirith, should you decide to remain there."

I felt my skin begin to burn a little. "That's… Very kind of you to say, Boromir." I mumbled, looking down at my soup. "I appreciate the gesture, but it's not necessary. With any luck, I won't spend much time in Minas Tirith. I'm only going there to see if I can find out what happened to my family, and how I can get home again." I noted the look he gave me, but he spoke formally in response.

"Of course – I do not expect you to live out your days in Gondor, Lady Kayla. However, if you do elect to stay, I would be happy to help find you accommodations." He was being a gentleman, as all Lords were expected to act, and I appreciated it. But I also knew that, if I was able to get to Minas Tirith in the next week or two, I could maybe try to figure out how to get home, get home, and try to pretend none of this had happened.

As much as I loved this world and its stories, they were just that: stories. That's all they could be to me. I appreciated all the help I was getting from everyone here, and the kindness I was being shown by Boromir and Aedre, but I knew it would be short-lived. At least, I hoped it would be. I really wanted to get home. I also wanted to make sure Boromir was healed before then, as well. Maybe I would head for Gondor after the whole Théoden thing went down, just so I knew Boromir would be in good hands, and healing properly.

We lapsed into silence after our brief talk, and ate everything, before I took the dishes away, and placed them back in the Main Hall. I then returned to the room, and lay down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Do you miss your home?" Boromir asked suddenly, and I glanced sideways at him. He was looking at me with earnest, and I realized that he was genuinely interested.

I propped myself up on an elbow, and looked at him. "Every day," I said quietly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

He was watching me, his grey eyes glinting in the dim light of the room. "You will see them again, Kayla." He was trying to be reassuring, but I knew it only went so far here. In times like these, nothing was certain. "I hope you will find what you seek in Minas Tirith."

I forced a smile. "Thank you, Boromir."

A smile back. "There is a large library within the city. Perhaps it was by some foul magic that you cannot recall how you found yourself in the forest. Or, perhaps, you were taken there. There are many scholars that dwell there. They may have the answers you seek." His face fell slightly. "It is a pity Gandalf fell in Moria… I am certain he would have known what to tell you."

I tried to hide my smile. "I'm sorry about Gandalf, Boromir. From what I hear, he didn't die in vain." _Or at all_ , I mentally added.

Boromir had a sad smile on his face. "As am I; it was hard on us all, particularly Frodo. They were close." I nodded, and was about to reply, when there was the sound of bells ringing in the distance. Confused, I got up and went to door, and opened it slowly, poking my head out. As the bells continued to ring, I saw Aedre come hurrying back into the Main Hall from outside. As the door swung shut behind her, I called to her.

"Aedre, what's going on?" I asked, coming out of the room. Behind me, I could hear Boromir shift to try to get a better view of what was happening in the Main Hall of the Healing House.

The woman's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "Outsiders come into Edoras, girl!" I felt my heart skip a beat. Already? Were they already here?

"Who is it?" I asked coming farther out of the room. Aedre looked like her eyes were going to bug right out of her head. Her voice sounded breathy when she spoke.

"It's the great wizard, Gandalf the Grey!"

Behind me, I was pretty sure Boromir said the Gondorian equivalent to the word "fuck".

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 **A/N:** **Wow, this took longer to write than I am proud to admit. But here you all go! Another slight fluff chapter, complete with slight BoromirxKayla adorableness. I really liked writing about Kayla's "back story" a little more. I think it'd fly relatively well, for now. The next chapter will consist of move movie/book plot, with the Théoden scene and aftermath of that. Enjoy! R &R, please!**


	9. Of Mice and Men in Rohan

**A/N:** **Not a long Author's Note here, folks. You all know what's about to happen. (Or do you? Insert Crowd Gasp Here).**

 **P.S. I am SO sorry for such a long time without an update! I have been working full time, gotten a cold, and have been regularly out of commission as of late. But, here is the much awaited update!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Nine:**

 **Of Mice and Men in Rohan**

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I started forwards, my heart thumping in my chest. Had they already made it to Edoras so soon? I turned back and looked at Boromir, who was slowly sitting up in bed, his grey eyes wide with shock. Aedre nodded to us once more, gesturing absently behind her, before rushing away into the depths of the Healing House again, leaving us in the silence.

"Did… Did she say _Gandalf?_ " Boromir asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

I turned slowly back to look at him, the shock on my face from the fact that they had arrived earlier than I had anticipated, rather than the reappearance of Gandalf. "I don't know," I managed to say, as Boromir propped himself up on his elbows, watching me. "I'll go outside and check." When he started to move again, I raised a hand, "Wait here, I'll be right back." He looked like he wanted to protest, but I darted out the door before he could say anything.

I ran out of the Healing House, and out into the road, passing a few surprised looking people as they watched a small group of people ascending towards the Keep. I squinted, trying in vain to make them out without my glasses, which was annoying as hard to do. I knew it was Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Gandalf, but I was also struggling to see if they had managed to find Merry and Pippin, as well. From what I could tell, they were alone, just the four of them.

I knew it would look suspicious as hell if I were to just run up to Aragorn, and start talking to him. The guards would be altered to my knowing him, and thusly Aedre would find out, meaning Boromir and I would no longer be allowed to stay in the Healing House. I was going to have to be as inconspicuous as possible if I was going to be able to speak with Aragorn, and yet not be seen as if I were actually speaking with him.

I hurried through the streets, striving in vain to find something I could use to hide myself behind, or under, or on, in order to speak with Aragorn. I noticed a basket laying discarded on the ground, but a few feet from me, and I rushed over, picking it up. I rested it on my hip, and began scurrying up the road to catch up with the Fellowship, who by now were nearly cresting the last hill that led to the steps leading up to the Keep. I needed to keep an even pace, or else I wouldn't be able to catch them before they went to save Théoden. Luckily, I managed to catch up with him them, just as they were nearing the steps.

"Aragorn!" I hissed, keeping myself at a safe distance, but close enough so that we could converse in relative privacy. I could feel onlookers watching us, but I kept my gaze straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, even Aragorn. Out of the corner of my gaze, I saw Aragorn stiffen, but he too did not turn.

"Kayla?" He said softly, and I nodded once, keeping my eyes trained on the ground before me. "You're here – and Boromir? How is he?"

"He's fine, we both are," I replied, my voice a little louder than I had intended. I quieted quickly, lest I be made to look suspicious to others. "Boromir is in the Healing House being looked after. What did you find?" I managed to whisper now, barely moving my lips as I did so. We were nearly at the steps now, and I knew I only had a few more moments before I would have to let them go. "Did you find Merry and Pippin? And Gandalf? Is it true?"

"We found no physical traces of the Hobbits, no." The Ranger replied, though there was an edge to his voice. "We did, however, find signs of their survivals. It appears they escaped the massacre, and entered into Fangorn Forest."

I tried to sound surprised. "Fangorn? Isn't that dangerous?" I peeked at Aragorn, turning my head slightly as I did. He had a knowing look on his face, and I had to supress the urge to smile, since I knew exactly what was going on.

"We found someone in the wood who had seen them both very much alive." Aragorn's voice was barely above a whisper, and I had to strain my ears to hear him properly. "They passed through the day before yesterday."

"How do you know?" I asked. It was starting to get a little tiresome feigning obliviousness all the time. I saw Aragorn lean back slightly, to give me a better view of who was riding next to him.

It was the white horse I noticed first; whiter than any horse I had ever seen – almost an unearthly white, and whiter than snow. Perhaps its ancestors had been unicorns? I knew this was Shadowfax, and I knew who rode him now.

I had never seen Gandalf in person before; he had fallen not long before I had woken up in Middle Earth. I had known what he had looked like, having seen him in the movies, as well as images drawn by Tolkien himself, as well as fan art, and official artwork. He had always been tall, and Grey, and powerful, as well as White and deafening to those who looked upon him. I had always wondered what it would be like to see him in person. Now, I didn't have to wonder anymore.

The glance was brief, but it was enough to leave me feeling slightly out of breath, and light headed.

He was seated upon Shadowfax, and held no reins, and rode in no saddle. His cloak was grey, much like the one he had worn when he had been Gandalf the Grey, yet the staff he carried was pure white, like the snow, or perhaps even whiter. It only took such a brief glance for me to get the sheer magnitude this man – no, this _entity_ emitted. Gandalf the Great and Powerful, alright.

I knew I had only a few seconds now before they would be swept away into the Keep, so I had to think quickly.

"Aragorn," I hissed through my teeth; I could feel others beginning to gather to watch the group ascend to the keep, and I knew they were scrutinizing me just as much. "What should I do? Should I stay with Boromir?"

Aragorn nodded once, before they began to climb the steps. "Yes, remain in Edoras – remain with Boromir. Do not let him come to us, despite how much he may wish it – he must heal; remember that. We will be finished here shortly." I nodded quickly, and did not slow down.

I kept walking passed the steps, keeping my head front facing, and my pace even. I turned a corner near the base of the Keep, and found myself in an abandoned alley way. I put the basket down that I was holding, and leaned on the wall for a moment to allow myself to breathe. Above me, I distinctly heard Hàma's voice, asking the group to relieve themselves of their weapons, then proceed into the Keep. I knew that, in a matter of perhaps another twenty to thirty minutes, Théoden would be freed of Saruman's control, and Edoras, and Rohan itself, would return to a semi state of normality. I was thankful that, for at least a brief amount of time, the people of Rohan would see a small bit of peace, at least before the battle at Helm's Deep.

Another thought struck me now: maybe after this I could finally figure out how to get home? It had been what felt like an era since I had last seen my family (though I knew it had only been over a week, but still). I would now have the opportunity to speak with Gandalf (hopefully) and maybe secure a chance to figure out how to get home, or at least get some advice on the kind of magic that brought me here. Maybe I would finally be able to say goodbye to this internet lacking, bad oral hygienic, "sleep for six hours then work in the farms all day" world, and be able to wake up in my own bed, with my cell phone in one hand, and a Pop-Tart in the other again! Wow, when I really thought hard about it, I sounded like such a spoiled brat. But come on, who doesn't love Pop-Tarts?

My brain was all over the place, and I decided it would probably be best if I headed back to the Healing House now, and try and rein Boromir in. No doubt the poor man was having a fit that I had left him there alone without so much as a "Just hold your horses," before leaving. I dashed back out of the alley, and through the streets of Edoras. By now, there was a nice crowd gathering at the base of the steps, and a few of them whispered to each other as I passed. I wondered if they were whispering about me, and how I had been walking and standing so close to Aragorn. It hadn't been the best plan, but I had had to know what had been going on. Sue me if that was illegal here. Maybe it was; I don't know.

I managed to get back to the Healing House without being verbally assaulted by anyone, and shut the door swiftly behind me. I stood for a moment in the dimly lit hall, and exhaled slowly. Maybe now, after being stuck here for as long as I had been (which really wasn't very long) I would finally be able to go home – or at least figure out how.

My internal monologue was cut short by movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned, and noticed that Boromir was leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom we had been sharing. He had his right arm wrapped around his middle, no doubt supporting his injured ribs, and body as he leaned, watching me.

He didn't look happy.

I cringed slightly as I moved across the threshold, surveying him as I did, waiting for him to say something. His grey eyes followed my every step as I moved. I guessed he was probably pretty mad at me for leaving him there without letting him come along when we had heard Gandalf was alive and with Aragorn and the others. As I approached him, he slowly turned his body, allowing me access into the room again. When I passed him, I sat down on my bed, and he moved to his, doing the same, except he didn't lay down. Instead, he sat, and faced me, his expression hard and accusing.

"Well?" His tone was flat, and I tried not to let it show in my face that he was making me nervous by how annoyed he looked. Had I ever met someone as moody as Boromir? I couldn't recall.

"Well what?" It was a stupid response, but it was the only thing I could think to say for the moment, and I immediately regretted it.

Boromir gave me a withering look. "Gandalf – the others? Did Aragorn find the little ones?" He was asking out of concern for his friends, but his eyes said, "Why the fuck did you just run off and not let me help?"

"Gandalf is alive, yes," I began slowly, wondering how he would take the next bit of news. "But the Hobbits aren't with them, no." I saw Boromir's eyes fill with sadness, and before I could press on, he spoke.

"So, they met their fate along with those monstrous creatures, then?" I thought I saw a tear glisten in a grey orb, but I spoke before he could break down, if he were going to.

"No, no!" I waved my hands quickly, trying to dissuade him from breaking down completely in front of me. "When they met Gandalf in the forest, he said he'd seen them only two days before!" Boromir's face relaxed a bit at this, and his demeanour seemed to ease up a little, as well. "Aragorn didn't say where they went, but they're alive, as far as I know. He can tell you more about it himself, I'm sure." At that last comment, Boromir began to stand again, and I felt something tug at me. What was he about to do?

"I am gladdened to hear that they yet live," He was saying as he stood up, wincing slightly, and resting a hand on the edge of the bedframe to steady himself. "I must go and seek out Aragorn and the others. If they are here to aid King Théoden, I would join them immediately."

I stood at this, gently placing a hand on the non-wounded side of his chest. "Oh no, you have to stay here with me; Aragorn's orders. You aren't to do any kind of excessive movement until you're healed." Boromir's eyes darkened at this, and I added. "They'll be just fine – it won't take them long."

"How do you know?" His demand caught me off guard, and for a moment I almost panicked. How _did_ I know it wouldn't take them long in the Keep?

"I just…" My voice trailed off as I tried to find the right words. "I have faith in them – they have Gandalf now; they know what they're doing." Nailed it.

Boromir didn't look convinced. He pushed past me with surprising strength for an injured man, but I noted his limp and wince as he did. I rolled my eyes, and walked after him. I kept my pace slow, watching as he struggled to the door, and attempted to leave the room, having to stop for a moment to catch his breath. He looked back at me, saw my expression, and threw me a withering look.

"What are you staring at?"

I had to supress a snort. "Watching a man who was nearly mortally wounded a few days ago try to walk out of a Healing House."

Boromir's glare deepened, and he turned back to face me. "I have as much a right as they do to try and help King Théoden, Lady Kayla. I am a man of Gondor, and it would bring me some peace of mind to know that I have helped do my part as a member of this Fellowship."

I gently approached him, reaching out to lead him back to his bed, but he pulled away, scowling at me. Jeez, he was moody all of a sudden. I sighed, "I know that, Boromir, but Aragorn told me to tell you to stay here. You're still injured – quite badly, as you know. They have it handled up at the Keep, trust me. It would do you all good if you'd just stay here and heal. Once you're fully recovered, you will be able to do more for the Fellowship. Right now, it wouldn't be the best idea to move around." If looks could kill, Boromir's scowl could have pierced right through my breastbone, I swear. "Look, I know you're frustrated, Boromir, and I know you want to help, but right now, _this_ is helping. You staying here, letting them handle it, and resting _is_ a huge help. Trust me."

I expected Boromir to huff and storm back to the bed, or roll his eyes, or try to stomp away anyway, resulting in me having to drag him back to the bed. I didn't, however, expect him to say what he did next. He fixed me with a look that could only be described as a man being stripped of his honor and purpose, or a child being told they couldn't have the last cookie.

"How would you know of such things? You are a woman – and a woman who does not know our ways, at that." I don't know if his words were meant to be so harsh, but to me it felt like a snake had spit poison at me.

Now, I know that in these times, in this world, women didn't fight, and they weren't always included in battle plans, Fellowships, or even adventures at all. They were used to having babies, tending farms, and sewing. Well, not so much in Rohan, maybe, seeing as Éowyn was still a strong female character, even in the books – but in places like Gondor and Bree-Land, I was sure it was different. I knew it wasn't customary for women to tell men, especially men of a higher class like Boromir, what to do, and be able to relate in how they felt. I knew it was normal here, and that Boromir didn't know any better. I knew it wasn't meant to be as mean as it had sounded.

But it still pissed me right the fuck off.

I threw up my hands in anger now, and Boromir actually took a step back in surprise. "You know what? Forget you – do what you want. If you want to aggravate your wounds even more, and potentially make yourself worse and die because your "honour" is going to get bruised, then fine. Go ahead and be an idiot!" I actually shouted the last part, surprising even myself, and crossed my arms across my chest, glaring at him, and turning away. Behind me, I heard him huff in exasperation and anger.

"I will then." His voice was flat, and he turned around, and exited the room, limping across the hall. I whipped around, watching him go to the door, and saw red. I was so angry that he was being so stupid, and I knew that Aragorn would be annoyed at us both if Boromir further injured himself because he was being a big baby about it all. And here I thought we were starting to become friends! Well okay, maybe we were still friends, but he was still being a total butthead about all this!

"Oh, for the love of –" I growled, and exited the room, hurrying after him. He had just stumbled out of the Healing House when I burst out of the door after him, but I stopped dead in my tracks, as had he. I nearly ran into his back before I realized what was going on.

Up the road, I could see a huge crowd had gathered at the base of the steps leading up to the Keep. They were all looking up at the top of the stairs, where a small group had gathered. I noticed Aragorn and Legolas immediately, as well as Gimli's head poking out from behind Legolas. Gandalf, no longer wearing his long, grey cloak, was standing beside Aragorn, and the two were watching two others on the steps. One man, clad in black, was laying at the second base of the steps, below the smaller group, and above the crowd gathered at the bottom. The other, wearing a large, fur cloak, a crown, and carrying a huge sword, was standing over him. He looked furious.

"You would have had me crawling on all fours, like a beast!" The man in the crown, who I knew to be Théoden now, was spitting at the man on the ground, who I knew to be Grima Wormtongue. There was blood coming from a mouth wound on Grima's face, and he wiped the scarlet liquid away, his pale, treacherous eyes pleading.

"Send me not from your side, Théoden King!" He begged. Though I knew Grima was a deceitful, snake of a man, I still had some sympathy for him. I had been a little sad when Legolas had shot him after he had stabbed Saruman – and was still annoyed at the elf for doing so. He had just killed a well-known enemy of Man; why shoot him? Oh, well.

The crowd gasped as Théoden raised his sword, preparing to strike Grima down before the entire city. Aragorn grabbed the King's hand suddenly, stopping him from bringing the blade down.

"No, my Lord!" Aragorn cried, gripping the man's arm, who was straining against him, trying to slice Grima in half. "No, my Lord! Let him go." Théoden stopped struggling, and looked at Aragorn, as the Ranger carefully took the weapon from the King, and placed it on the ground beside them.

Aragorn then turned to Grima, extending a hand. Grima stared at it for a moment, before spitting on Aragorn's attempt at kindness, and tearing down the stairs, with a yell of, "Get out of my way!" He passed through the crowd, down the steps, and towards Boromir and me. I gently pulled Boromir out of the way as the man tore passed us, and out of sight. I watched him go, wondering how the story would play out for Wormtongue. With Boromir alive, was there a chance that he would survive too? I had no idea how much damage I had caused to the outcome of this story since letting Boromir live. So far, things seemed to be going pretty much the same, which was a really good sign. How long would it be until some drastic change to the plot-line reared its ugly head? Would it be my fault? What if I managed to get out of this world and back to my own? Would it have re-written the entire book and movie plotlines? Would I be responsible for angering a bunch of _Lord of the Rings_ obsessed nerds back home? Would they put a hit out on me? Would they _know_ it was me? I really needed to get a handle on my anxiety – goddamn.

It was then that Théoden began to notice who was missing from the crowd gathered around him, and I felt my heart sink. The citizens of Rohan were now kneeling before their King, and I noted that Boromir was doing the same, so I figured I should as well, just in case it looked suspicious. I also wondered vaguely where Aedre had gotten too. No doubt she would find out soon enough that I had lied about where I was from. I hoped the woman wouldn't be too upset with me.

I heard Théoden's voice carry over the crowd as he stood, tall and tired and great, above his people. My heart broke slightly at the confusion and worry in his voice.

"Where is Théodred? Where is my son?"

* * *

I was seriously craving taquitos. They are perhaps one of my only vices back home. Once a week, I would go down to the local gas station, and buy one or two taquitos as a reward for getting through another week of school. I know they're terrible for you, and will probably lead to the heart attack that would eventually kill me on day, but I loved them. I hadn't been able to have one in almost two weeks now, and it was starting to get to me. Not that I am complaining about actually having normal food and drink while I've been stuck in Middle Earth, but a little deep fried goodness never hurt a person.

I shook my head, trying to get the images of the delicious death wrapped in deep fried batter out of my head as I pulled the simple, black dress over my head and shoulder, and tied a piece of rope around my waist to make it look more form fitting. The entire city was gathering outside the walls in a few moments to attend King Théoden's son Théodred's funeral.

Théoden had broken down completely after finding out that his son had died, and he had been too ill and corrupted to even realize it, until it was too late. I felt so awful for him, and wished that there could have been something I could have done for him, but I knew I had meddled enough for now. The King had then begun immediate preparations for a burial and funeral for his only child, and it was being held this morning, just after sunrise, the day after Théoden had regained his mind, and Grima had been banished.

After the chaos at the Keep had settled, Aragorn had come to find Boromir and me, telling us that he had informed Théoden of our residence in his Healing House. The King had generously allowed us to both move from the Healing House, and into our own rooms within his Keep, instructing his own healers to tend to Boromir and his wounds, so that I was no longer liable to do so. This was fine with me, seeing as we hadn't really spoken to each other since our dual outbursts the day before. I was still mad at him for the woman comment, even though I knew it was kind of the norm here, and he was still mad at my for trying to tell him what to do. We had separate rooms in the Keep, thankfully – he was sharing with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, and I was sharing with a girl I guessed was Éowyn's handmaid, which didn't bother me at all. I was prepared to do my own share of work around the Keep, if it meant having somewhere to stay. I wasn't nobility, and there was no way to prove it even if I was, so I had to share a room. I didn't really care either way, and was just glad that things were starting to settle.

I know had to begin to decide when would be the safest time to actually leave Edoras, and head for Gondor. I didn't know how long it would be before the people of Rohan made for Helm's Deep, and if it would be smart for me to wait it out there, and then head to Gondor, or go before. Or, maybe I could speak with Gandalf, and see if he knew any spells to send me back now, and I wouldn't have to go to Helm's Deep or Gondor after all! The sooner the better. I didn't want to have to stay here much longer, especially with Boromir and me fighting. He really was making this whole "adventure" wear very thin. I hadn't had a chance to speak with Gandalf alone yet, either, and I knew I had to do it soon, before anything else went down.

I would be going alone regardless of my choice, but I was a little nervous about leaving knowing that there was a giant army of Orcs and Uruk-hai roaming about the land. As I have mentioned before, I have zero to no skills with a weapon, so even if I went now, the chances of me getting murdered along the way were a little higher. Maybe I would wait it out until after the whole Helm's Deep thing – it could be the safer option. Right then, however, I had more important matters to deal with – like attending a funeral for a man I had never met, but whose father I owed my current living situation to. I like Théoden, however, and I wanted him to know he had the entire city's sympathy, including mine. I still had yet to speak with him myself, but when I got the chance, I was going to thank him up and down for his hospitality.

I had run into Aedre after Aragorn had informed Boromir and me that we could stay in the Keep with him and the others. She hadn't been very pleased with me after finding out that I had lied about where we had come from, not to mention who Boromir had actually been the entire time. She had softened, however, after she had admitted that it had been a blessing in disguise, since Théoden was now well again, and the city's black cloud had dissipated slightly. Still, I elected to give her some space after we had talked. She still had a lot of work on her hands, and didn't need me poking around consistently apologizing to her. I would speak with her more once we had a moment's peace.

I exited the room I was staying in, and hurried down the hall. Éowyn's handmaiden, Bera, had left long before me, to tend to Éowyn most likely. I had only seen the Shield-Maiden once since coming to the Keep. She had been standing near Théoden when he had told us we would be attending Théodred's funeral. She had been dressed in white, and her skin seemed to glow. Her blond hair had been loose, and she looked exhausted, as did her uncle. She had looked at me once, but we had exchanged no words. She seemed like a kind woman, but had intimidated me a little. Not once had Théoden directly addressed me as he had spoken, but I didn't take it personally. He had many other matters to attend to instead of speaking with a random, foreign girl.

I ran through the Great Hall, passing a few guards, and exited the Keep, practically flying down the steps. Most of the city had already gathered outside the walls for the funeral, and I knew it would be a few moments before Théodred's body was walked through the city, and down to his tomb. The rest of the citizens were gathering in lines, to flank the body of the King's son as he would be moved.

I knew Aragorn, Boromir and the others would follow Théoden and the body of his child as they went to bury him, but I wouldn't be joining them. I bore no right to do so, and I didn't want to get in the way. Instead, I would wait among the people of Edoras, near the bottom of the crowd, by the entrance to the tomb. That way, I would get a clear view of the funeral, but also not get in the way of it.

I left the city gates, and moved to stand with the large group the people gathered around the tomb's entrance. Éowyn was already there, clad in black, and her hair done up in an intricate bun at the base of her neck. Bera was next to her, and behind them was Hàma and his guardsmen. I spotted Aedre, standing amongst the other healers, and the woman gestured to me, and I came to stand with her. I noted how Éowyn's eyes flicked to me once, but she said nothing. Her mouth was a thin, straight line, and I knew all she cared about now was her cousin's burial, the well-being of her uncle. Perhaps we could speak later, and I could express my sympathies.

The funeral began at the Keep, and after a few moments, I could see the white of Gandalf's cloak exiting the city on the hill above us, and I knew that Théoden was leading the group to the tomb. The King looked awful – a broken man leading his offspring to his resting place. I could only imagine how he must have been feeling at that moment, and my heart ached for him and his family. As the approached, Éowyn began to sing her haunting song of death and grief, as Théodred was slowly moved into his grave. Théoden, as well as Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli, stopped to watch as the young man began to enter deeper and deeper into the darkness, all the while Éowyn's anguished voice filling our ears. I felt my eyes sting, and I had to look away from it all. I had only been to one funeral-like thing before, after my grandfather had passed away, and even then, it had been a more celebration of his life, rather than a funeral.

As I looked away, I noticed Boromir glance at me. I looked up, and grey eyes met mine, and I looked away again, not allowing my face to show any expression. My head snapped back as the loud slam of stone against stone brought me back to reality. Théodred's tomb was sealed, and within it lay the corpse of the King of Rohan's only son. I looked at Théoden, and saw his head was bowed in grief. Éowyn's voice cut off as well, and there was a heavy silence over the crowd. After a few moments of this, the people of Edoras began to disperse, and head back into the city for a day of mourning. It was customary here, as I had been told, to remain in black for the remainder of the day after the burial.

Aedre nudged me as she began to move. "Come, girl, we must let the King mourn. I will be making something ta eat when I return – join me, if you like."

I nodded, smiling gratefully up at the older woman. "I would be happy to." We both began to walk back up the hill together, and behind us, I could hear the soft, choked sobs of King Théoden. Worry, sympathy, and pain tugged at my heart. I looked back once, and saw Éowyn stood behind her uncle, her hand on his shoulder, as he sank to his knees in front of the tomb. Aragorn and the other stood off to the side, and Hàma and his guards flanked them. As I watched the, Gandalf suddenly turned to look at me, and his eyes caught mine. I felt something stir inside me. Something that filled me with fear, and guilt. Why was I suddenly getting the feeling that I wasn't quite done with this place, and this story?

What was going to happen now?

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 **A/N:** **I know this was a long awaited update, and I am so sorry it took me so long! I don't know how happy I am with this chapter, but I hope you all enjoyed it! More to come as soon as I can – R &R, please!**


	10. Days Going By

**A/N:** **Hey, lovelies! Again, sorry for the delayed update, again. Please don't hurt me. I have been very busy lately with looking for work in my field, as well as planning on moving out ASAP. Anyway, here is the latest chapter! Just a quick update, and filler chapter for the ones to come. Enjoy!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Ten:**

 **Days Going By**

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It had been three days since Théodred's funeral, and things hadn't changed much in Edoras, nor in the Keep. Théoden had spent the first day after his son's burial standing outside of the tomb, mourning for his only child, with Gandalf staying at his side nearly the entire time. It had pained me to know how much pain the King was in, and that there had been nothing I could have done to prevent the death of his only son and heir. Since then, Théoden had locked himself in the throne room with Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir, no doubt discussing the impending threat looming over Rohan. Additionally, Boromir and I had still not spoken since his little outburst a few days prior and, for now, I intended to keep it that way. He had been being so bitchy since we had arrived in Edoras and, just as I was feeling we might be able to become friends, he had gone and made a complete ass of himself again, and I was going to have none of it.

Bera, Éowyn's handmaiden and I, had begun to become slight friends since my arrival in the Keep. I had spent the first day after the funeral wandering around the Keep, trying to get my bearings, and figure out where things were. Despite not being of noble birth, I was treated with respect by all who worked in the Keep, and they allowed me to wander to my heart's content, so long as I didn't interrupt Théoden when he was in session with the Fellowship. I didn't really mind, I like having the alone time for a few days to think and try to figure out what I was going to do next. I still hadn't quite gotten to that part in my mind yet – did I leave now? Or wait until there at least a time of certain safety, after the Battle of Helm's Deep? I knew I had to decide soon, since I didn't know when the first raid was going to happen, and when the people of Edoras would be forced to flee their home.

By the third day after the funeral, I was starting to get restless. I had done nothing but explore the grounds and Keep, save the throne room, and return to my room and lay on my bed for three days, and I was starting to find pleasure staring at the stone walls. I was beginning to feel badly about not really doing much to help out in the Keep, considering, again, I wasn't of any kind of nobility. I wanted to be able to make my own way around the castle, and do my part to aid the servants with their daily duties. I finally worked up the courage to ask Bera if she needed any help with her chores on the morning of the third day. The golden haired girl, perhaps only a few years younger than me, was busy plaiting said golden hair after she had dressed for the morning. I was sitting on my bed, chewing my thumbnail as I did when I was nervous, and trying to nurse yet another impending migraine of that morning.

"Bera?" I managed to say, while still chewing on my thumbnail.

She turned her strikingly green eyes on me, the sunlight from the open window falling across her face, making her freckles stand out. "Yes, Miss Kayla?" She never referred to me as "Lady Kayla", as Boromir or Aragorn did, probably because she knew I wasn't nobility. But still, she was polite enough to address me as "Miss", and I had to say, I preferred it over "Lady". Much less formal.

I sat up a little straighter, before climbing off the bed and crossing to the silver pitcher of water we always had on the table by the door. I poured myself some into the clay cups we used, and took a long drink, clearing my throat before turning back to her.

"Well, I know this may be a little unethical, seeing as I'm not a housemaid, or nobility for that matter – I'm in that awkward in between." Bera nodded, clasping her hands in front of her, indicating that she was listening intently to me. Man, she was well-mannered. She put all the young women I knew back home to shame, and then some. I got back on track quickly, lest I lose my train of thought. "Anyway, it's been three days since the funeral of the King's son, and all I have to show for it is wandering around the Keep and the city. King Théoden has been so accommodating to me, by letting me stay here with you, even though he doesn't know me." I could tell that, despite still listening to me, Bera was starting to get impatient. I was taking up time she could be spending tending to Éowyn. I hurried on quickly. "What I'm trying to say is, do you need any help around the Keep with your work? I want to make myself useful, and not just sit around and waste the King's hospitality."

Bera was looking at me with a curious expression on her face. Her pale eyebrows knitted together as she spoke. "You wish… To help me with my chores and tasks I do for Lady Éowyn? But, you are not a maidservant, nor a handmaid, Miss." She tilted her head, her blond plait falling over her shoulder. "You are correct, it would be unethical to ask such a thing of you. While you are not nobility, you are still a guest of the King."

"But that's the thing," I pressed on quickly. "I'm not – I am here because the men he has been holding council with for the last three days are aiding him in the safe keeping of his homeland, and your home, as well. I'm only here because they found me, and helped me when I would have probably died. I am in no way associated with their tasks to help the King." When Bera raised an eyebrow at me, I added. "I just want to help in any way I can. I'm going crazy doing nothing, and I want to try and repay the King's kindness somehow." Bera sighed, and it looked like she was considering my offer, so I quickly said. "I won't get in the way, I promise. There must be something you need help doing – or some additional task I can do? You'd be done in half the time." I threw her my cheesiest, fakest smile ever, and hoped she'd buy it. For a split second, I wondered if Bera would just tell me it wasn't her place, or that it was impossible because I was this weird "guest", as she had said before.

To my surprise, Bera actually began to nod slowly. "Alright," she said, "I suppose you could help me tend to the Lady Éowyn's chambers today. It is in need of a good tidy and dust. She will be out today, most likely tending to the other soldiers who were wounded during the battle that killed Lord Théodred. We may manage her room together, and perhaps we can find you some other work after that. After all, I _am_ Lady Éowyn's handmaiden, and as such _should_ be the only one tending to her, but for today, I will make a small exception." I nodded enthusiastically, and Bera gave me a warm, albeit somewhat pained smile, and walked back over to her bed, picking up a cloth and a basket. "We will begin by making her Lady's bed, and dusting her chambers. After that, I will prepare luncheon for Lady Éowyn when she returns from her own duties, at which time I will see if anyone else will be in need of your assistance. Come, we mustn't delay – there is much to be done."

She smiled once, and gestured to the door. I nodded, raked a wooden brush with sharp bristles on it through my hair, which I took out of its braided up-do briefly, before quickly putting it back up in a small ponytail. Thankfully, Bera hadn't either noticed, or had noticed and chosen not to ask, about my not-so-Middle-Earthen ponytail holder, nor my toiletry kit that I had stuffed into a leather satchel I had found in the Keep, and thrown under my bed. She didn't ask when I disappeared for ten minutes each night either, to brush my teeth in private, and floss as best I could. I had managed to somewhat successfully keep my teeth clean since arriving in Edoras, as well as keeping my body clean. As it turned out, the servant and members of the keep had a much better way of bathing themselves. They actually had a bigger basin, and a proper bucket to douse oneself with after washing ones hair. The soap used was a lot more like the ones I was used to back, home, though still rough and scentless – it did the job better than the one Aedre had let me use had, that was for sure.

I straightened my plain brown dress, much like the one Bera was wearing, and darted out the door after her. Our leather slippered feet made barely any sound as we darted through the stone and wooden corridors. I knew that, as servants, Bera and the others weren't allowed to make any sound while cleaning, cooking, and tidying the Keep, which was why they had to wear the soft, poor insole-d shoes that we both wore now. It felt a lot more like wearing slippers, rather than shoes, and I knew my flat feet would be hating me later that night. I was going to have to see if I could sneak away for a bit later and soak my feet, if Bera didn't find a million things for me to do, of course. I wasn't a big fan of manual labour, but I knew I had to do something to keep myself busy, or I really was going to go crazy.

We eventually came to what I suspected was Éowyn's bedroom, since Bera stopped, and turned to me as we approached. Sure enough, when she spoke, I was correct. "This is Lady Éowyn's chambers," she girl said. "We must in efficient, and quick in the cleaning, as she could return at any moment from her duties. You will be tasked with dusting the bookcases, tables, and fixing her chairs and replacing the flowers on her nightstand. I will tell you where to fetch more flowers once you have finished dusting." She then opened the door, and entered into the room.

Before stopping short, causing me to run right into her back.

I peeked over Bera's shoulder, wondering why she'd stopped. Before us I could see Éowyn's room. It was dimly lit, with a large, king-size bed on our left, several dark, probably mahogany book cases, a few tables and chairs, and a large window, complete with a thick, glass window pane. The light coming in was cold and pale, and there was a vase of dried, dead flowers on the table by the window. However, it wasn't the pale dark of the room, nor the stillness of the air, and the dead flowers that caught my eye. It was the woman standing before the window, with her back to us.

Éowyn; White Lady and Shieldmaiden of Rohan.

Upon hearing Bera stop short, and me run into her back, Éowyn turned to look at us. I couldn't help but stare. She was pale, much paler than I was, and surprising considering the people she lived among were much tanner, and rougher than anyone from my home. She was wearing the same white dress she had worn the day Aragorn and the others had arrived in Edoras, and she looked like a glowing white beacon in the darkness of her room. Her shimmering golden hair was loose, and fell down past her waist. It framed her face in waves, and her expression was one of exhaustion and melancholy. Despite her apparent sadness, the Lady of Rohan still radiated power and strength, and her dark eyes were piercing, but not unkind. She reminded me a lot more of the Éowyn I had read about in the books, rather than the one from the films. Don't get me wrong, I loved Éowyn in the film adaptions, but this Éowyn, despite looking a lot like the actress Miranda Otto who had portrayed her in the films, had a certain air of regality to her.

Bera dropped into a curtsy upon seeing Éowyn standing there. "M-my Lady!" The girl gasped, sounding both shocked and horrified. "I did not think you would be in your chambers this morning, or I would have come later! My deepest apologies." If Bera had been flexible enough, I was certain her nose would have touched the floor, given how low she was curtsying. Realizing that I should probably show some respect, I quickly curtsied clumsily beside Bera. I kept my eyes trained on the ground, and I could hear Éowyn move slowly across the threshold towards us.

"There is no need to apologize, Bera." Éowyn's voice was calm and clear, though I could hear how tired she was, and how the ache of the loss of her cousin still wore on her. "I did not tell you I would be in my chambers – it is of no fault of your own. Please, carry on with your duties, and I will take my leave. I would speak with my brother."

She began to pass us, as Bera straightened herself, and I did the same, my eyes met those of the White Lady of Rohan briefly, and I dropped them quickly. She was at least half a head taller than me, and I felt suddenly very nervous and shy. I loved Éowyn as a character, and it was a little overwhelming being in the same vicinity as her now. We hadn't had a chance to properly become acquainted since my arrival in the Keep. It had been such a whirlwind of emotion and preparations, that the Lady had had little time for socialization with anyone, even Aragorn who, by this point, I was certain she had already begun to develop feelings for.

"I do not believe we have been properly introduced." Éowyn's voice cut through my train of thought, and I briefly panicked. My eyes snapped up, and I found her watching me, a small smile on her face. I felt my cheeks heat up, and I quickly nodded.

"Yes, I mean no – Lady Éowyn," I stumbled over my words, trying not to look stupid, and failing miserably. Beside me, I heard Bera take in air as a hiss, and I could almost feel her rolling her eyes at the back of my head. I was in for a berating after this, I was sure of it. Éowyn let out a small laugh, and I felt a small smile form on my face, and I let out a nervous laugh. Christ almighty, I was bad at this.

"It is alright, there is no need to be nervous." She smiled down at me, and I clasped my hands in front of me, much like Bera had earlier that day while listening to me talk. I figured it was the most polite thing I could do while listening to a Lady speak. "I recognize you," Éowyn continued, "You came here with Lord Boromir of Gondor, and you know Lord Aragorn, as well?" I nodded quickly, and she smiled again. "I remember seeing you at my cousin Théodred's burial." Her eyes grew sad for a moment, and I quickly spoke.

"I'm so sorry about your cousin, Lady Éowyn. I really am." I wanted to sound as earnest as possible, since I really was sad for her and her family, and I think she could tell. She looked back up at me, and smile slightly.

"You have my thanks…" She paused, and raised an eyebrow at me, and I quickly realized that she didn't know my name.

"Oh, my name is Kayla," I said quickly, and Éowyn smiled once again.

"Kayla," she tested my foreign name on her tongue, and seemed satisfied with it, before she spoke again. "I am glad we could speak properly since your arrival. I hope we can speak more in the days to come. For now, however, must take my leave, and find my brother. Please, do not let me keep you from your work, and thank you for helping Bera. She deserves help for all her hard work." Éowyn's smile was directed at her handmaiden this time, and the girl's green eyes widened, and she dropped into a low curtsy again.

"Thank you, my Lady, you are too kind." Éowyn nodded once, bid us farewell, and exited the room in a _whoosh_ of white and gold. I stood there, watching her go for a moment, before exhaling loudly. Behind me, I heard Bera do the same thing. I turned back to look at her. The girl looked a little frazzled, but otherwise alive.

"You going to be okay?" I asked, playfully winking at her, trying to lighten the mood. To my surprise, Bera actually let out a slight titter, and after I raised an eyebrow, a grin on my face, we both lapsed into silent laughter for a moment.

When we had calmed, and I was still snickering slightly, I said. "I swear, you were going to have a heart attack when you saw her! She's not that scary, you know. She seems really kind."

Bera was nodding as she walked across the room to Éowyn's bed and began to make it. "Lady Éowyn is very kind, yes. I am lucky to be able to serve her as her handmaiden for as long as I have."

I glanced back at her as I began to dust the bookshelves, taking care not to breathe in too much as I did. I have a dust allergy, and a sneezing fit was not going to help right now. I wondered vaguely, as I glanced back at the bookshelf in front of me, if there were any books in here that could help me in figuring out how I got here. I made a mental note to perhaps ask Éowyn later if she had any books on mythology or magic, and also to find a way to word it so it wouldn't sound suspicious at all.

"How long have you worked as Éowyn's handmaiden?" I asked after a few moments of silence while we tidied.

Bera looked up as she pulled the sheets up on Éowyn's bed, and pulled the comforter over them, taking care to smooth out the bedding, and make it look presentable. "I have been with Lady Éowyn since I was fifteen," She replied, tucking a lock of golden hair, much like Éowyn's, behind her ear as it came loose from her plait.

"And how old are you now?" I asked, continuing to dust and straighten the books on the shelf, not really paying attention to my task, but rather listening to Bera as she spoke.

Bera glanced back at me, moving across the room to fix the chairs at the table, and pick up a silver plate of untouched food off the table by the window. "I am now eighteen. I have been Lady Éowyn's handmaiden for over three years."

"Do you have any family? That's awfully young to leave home." I felt instantly stupid after saying it. I knew that, in this world, things were a lot different when it came to working and leaving home. I mean, some women were mothers by eighteen – someone like me could be married with children by now, and it would be considered normal. Ugh, I didn't even want to think about that for a long time.

Bera let out a small laugh, and I felt my blush deepen. "On the contrary, it is a fine age to leave home, Miss Kayla. And yes, I do have family. I am from the South of here, in Aldburg."

I turned back, confused. "Aldburg? I've never heard of that place." Bera looked surprised at this.

"Aldburg is the other largest settlement in Rohan, and perhaps the oldest. I am surprised you have not heard of this place, Miss Kayla." Before I could try to make up some kind of lame excuse as to why I had no idea where Bera came from, she countered me with her own questions. "Where are you from, Miss Kayla? You are far too pale to be from Rohan, and your eyes too dark to be from Gondor. Are you from Dale, or Bree-Land?" Huh, the same questions Aedre had asked me. Weird. I decided it was better to just tell the sort-of truth, rather than make up some huge lie again.

I chose my words carefully. "To be honest, I don't know where my home is. I know I'm from Middle Earth, but I can't remember where. I woke up in the woods near the Anduin River, and came across Lord Aragorn and the others. They were kind enough to let me come with them and find a safe haven here. When I'm ready, I'm going to be going to Gondor to see if I can't find any answers there." Bera stared at me for a second, probably both shocked and confused by my answer. She didn't really say much after that, and I was a little glad. I had gotten tired of people grilling me about where I was from, or why I couldn't remember. Maybe Bera thought I was insane, or maybe she didn't know how to answer me. Either way, she didn't say much about it.

The only thing the girl said to me was, "I hope you find your home soon, Miss Kayla. With all the darkness and death in this world, I am always glad for the love of my family. You are a kind woman, and you deserve a love like that, as well."

* * *

Two more days passed, and Bera helped me find a few more odd jobs to do around the Keep. I helped Bera clean Éowyn's room once more, then helped another maid clean the clothes, and finally tried my hand at cleaning a stable on the second day. That wasn't very fun, and I wasn't very good at it. I have weak wrists, and as such I can't lift a pitchfork to save my life. The stable hand had taken pity on me, and let me leave early. On my way back to the room I shared with Bera, I passed a room that Boromir, Aragorn, and Théoden were in. Boromir and I hadn't exchanged words, since they had looked very busy, but I had given him a small, slightly apologetic smile, and he had returned it, though his seemed more strained. We had both been so busy for the past week that neither of us had had any time to really talk, or apologize to one another. I had finally decided that staying mad at him was stupid, and when I got a moment, I would apologize to him properly, and hoped he would do the same. For now, however, I had to busy myself while I decided what I wanted to do – whether I go to Gondor now, or wait.

I was entering my room, when I found Bera standing at the window, looking out over the plains of Rohan. One thing I had to hand to this room: it had an amazing view. When I looked out the window, I could see across the whole city, and out onto the golden fields of Rohan. I approached Bera, wondering what she was doing.

"Bera?" I asked, walking up next to her, "What is it? What are you staring at?"

The girl was squinting out the window, clearly looking at something in the distance. "I cannot be certain, but I believe there is a horse approaching the city!" She sounded both surprised, and a little nervous. "I cannot see a rider, but the horse looks like one of Rohan."

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. No – was it happening now? It couldn't be. I turned and looked out the window, as well, squinting as best I could, straining to see without my glasses on, which proved to be a huge annoyance. Sure enough, I could see a horse riding towards Edoras in the distance, and the shapes atop it were unmistakable.

"That horse isn't rider-less, Bera." I said, my voice coming out much hoarser than I intended. "Those are children riding it."

Bera inhaled sharply, realizing that I was right. "You are right! But… Why would children approach Edoras alone on horseback? Unless…" Her voice trailed off, and she suddenly gasped. I turned back to look out the window, and saw that one of the children, the one I knew to be the young boy, had fallen from the horse. "He's fallen! We must get help!" Bera turned to run from the room, but I stopped her as the sounds of bells began to ring across the city.

"I don't think that's necessary, Bera." We both returned to the window, and could see what looked like guards racing out of the city, no doubt being led by Hàma, to rescue the children. I turned away from the window, as Bera continued to fret about the poor children on the horse, wondering what had happened, and why they were here. I pressed my index and middle fingers to my temples as I began to feel the onsets of a migraine.

It had begun – the evacuation of Edoras was coming.

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 **A/N:** **Woo! Here is the latest chapter. Sat down and vomited this out in a few hours. Just a filler chapter, and I apologize if it was boring – the more exciting stuff is on the way! I know this one was shorter, but bear with me! Thank you for all the fav'ing and following, it is much appreciated! R &R, please!**


	11. War – what is it good for?

**A/N:** **Hello, my lovely readers! I would like to begin with a big "thank –you" for the immense outpouring of reviews I have gotten since my last update! You are all so wonderful, and it has given me a renewed vigour to keep writing! I am SO sorry I haven't updated in so long! I was much busier this last month than I thought I'd be. However, thanks to all the lovely reviews I have gotten, I had the urge to write again today! Anyway, that's all for now – enjoy!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Eleven:**

 **War – what is it good for?**

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Crap.

Crap, crap, _crap!_

Crap, crappity, crap, crap, fucking _crap!_ Oh, _crap!_

It was happening.

I had waited too long. The Battle for Helm's Deep was coming, and I had waited too long. I had idled and now I was going to be stuck trekking to Helm's Deep with the others, for what could be days. I really wasn't in the mood for another several days of walking over rocky terrain, especially in the shoes I was now wearing all the time, since I had to keep my regular ones hidden. The ones I wore had next to no insoles, and I was flat footed, which meant that, by the time we reached Helm's Deep, unless I was able to snag a horse to ride on, my feet were going to be absolutely wrecked, and I wouldn't want to walk for the rest of my natural life. I had to decide what I was going to do, and I had to do it quickly.

I was sitting on my bed in the room I shared with Bera, my knees tight against my chest, and my fingers tapping restlessly upon them. Down the hall, I could hear the sounds of voices drifting from the open door to the throne room. I had decided not to eavesdrop on the conversation in the hall, as I knew exactly what was going on. Théoden was being informed by Aragorn that Saruman was planning on invading Rohan with an army of Uruk-hai, and that evacuations would be needing to come into effect _very_ soon.

The two young children, who had come from a neighbouring village not far from Edoras, were being tended to by Éowyn and Bera, which was why I was currently sitting alone. I could hear Éowyn's voice drifting down the hall from the Throne room, and I knew she was telling Théoden what the children had told her, how their village had burned, and the army would soon come for the capital. I knew it wouldn't be long before we had to pack up, and move out. Gandalf would ride to find Éomer and his army to bring to fight the Uruk-hai, and the rest of us would head for Helm's Deep. But was I ready to go with them? I didn't really have much of a choice at this point, but it was still leaving quite the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. The song "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" kept repeating in my head and, as funny as it was to have such a ridiculous song try to make sense of the situation, I was really starting to annoy myself.

I started as the door opened and Bera suddenly walked in. For someone younger than me, she looked like she had aged ten years. Since the children had arrived, she had been tending to them hand and foot, as well as looking after Éowyn with her daily duties, and continuing her others chores around the Keep. She slouched across the room, something that surprised me, since Bera always had the perfect posture of a noble Lady, even though she wasn't one, and flopped down on her bed. She lay there for a moment, and I watched her, an eyebrow raised, until she looked up at me.

"Tired?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood. No one in Rohan was happy right now, and I couldn't blame them. No doubt hearing that their capital was about to be ransacked by monsters, and that some of their neighbouring cities had already fallen wouldn't put a smile on anyone's face.

She sighed, "You haven't an idea, Kayla." She sat up, looking at me, her face showing her exhaustion much deeper than I had anticipated. "In addition to caring for Lady Éowyn, as I already do, I have been working myself to the bone caring for the children, as well." She paused, and added quickly, "I do not hold any ill will towards any of them, mind you, but yes, I am tired."

I smiled, "Everyone has been running around like chickens with their heads cut off; I don't blame you for being tired, Bera."

She tilted her head at my comment, "'Chickens with their heads cut off'? That is an amusing way of putting it." She smiled slightly, "Where did you learn that?"

I momentarily panicked, but replied smoothly. "Someone told me about it back in my home." Bera let the matter drop from there, and stood up, dusting off the front of her dress, and striding across the room to gather the wicker basket she carried Éowyn's dirty clothes in; I suspected she was going to do some laundry. It seemed a little unnecessary to me, considering we'd be leaving soon anyway, and things would no doubt get even dirtier at Helm's Deep. Which reminded me…

"Do you know when we'll be leaving Edoras?" I asked, standing up myself and stretching my already tired limbs. If I was sore now, I would certainly be in for some pain later after walking to Helm's Deep with the others.

Bera shrugged as she gathered a few more things to wash into the basket, and made her way to the door. "I do not know. I assume in a day or two at the most; King Théoden is desperate to get his people to safety as quickly as he can."

"How far is Helm's Deep from here? And how much can we bring?" I asked.

"I overheard the King saying that we should bring as much as we can, but not to overburden ourselves." Bera replied; she was idling by the door now, and I knew she was itching to get back to work. "Helm's Deep is a few days from here, or so I've heard, perhaps two."

I nodded, "Alright, thanks Bera. One more thing," I added just as she was about to leave. She fixed with me with a semi-annoyed, semi-amused look. "How will we be getting there? Surely there aren't enough horses for everyone to ride, especially with the Rohirrim gone."

A small smile flitted across Bera's face. "We will allow the elderly and the injured to ride on horses and in wagons with the crops. Those who are well enough will be walking." My heart sank, and I think my face showed my disappointment, because Bera grinned at me. "Do not look so upset, Kayla! It is not far, and we may all rest once we are safe within Helm's Deep."

"What about Lord Boromir?" I don't know what made me ask it, but I had been wondering it for a few days now. With his injuries still healing, would Boromir be allowed to walk with the rest of us to Helm's Deep, or would he be forced to ride on a horse or, Heaven forbid, a wagon? "Is he healed enough to travel?"

Bera shrugged again, "I do not know – that is something you may wish to discuss with King Théoden's Healers. Lord Boromir seems well enough, but injuries such as his take time to fully heal. I suspect he will be riding horseback, or within a wagon along with the other injured."

"Oh, he's going to love that," I said, trying to curb the smirk threatening to worm its way onto my face.

Bera chuckled lightly, "Indeed; I must get back to my work now, Kayla. I have no need of your assistance today with my chores, so I would suggest you begin to pack your things together. If King Théoden is desperate to leave, I have no doubt in my mind that it could be as early as tomorrow morning." She then turned and swept from the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I looked around the room, wondering what to do. Bera had a point: I should start packing. I didn't have much to bring with me, just the clothes I had come here with, the ones I was wearing, another outfit that looked exactly like the one I was wearing, one more pair crappy shoes, the shoes from my world, and my toiletry kit, which I had stolen back out of Boromir's bag, and put into my own leather pack that Bera had given me the day before, just in case we had to leave in a split second. Almost everything I had would fit just fine in the pack, expect maybe the shoes. I was still contemplating if I should leave my old shoes here or not, or if I could get away with wearing them under my dress without anyone noticing. It would certainly help with my feet being any sorer than they needed to be. Since I had so little to bring with me, I decided to just pack now, and get it over with. If we were leaving at any moment, and something was telling me we would, I wanted to be ready, and not have to rush.

Something else had been lingering at the back of my mind since the children had arrived, and since I knew we'd be leaving Edoras soon, and that was the actual battle of Helm's Deep. I knew all the women and children would be left in the caves, and none of them would be hurt, but since I had come here, and evidently fucked up pretty bad by letting Boromir live, and even the slight change in when we found Éomer, would that effect what would happen during the Battle? If I remembered correctly, some of the orcs and Uruk-hai had nearly managed to enter into the caves, and get to the innocents. Would they get in now? Would I die?

I shuddered; I really didn't want to think about that right now. I had made it this far – it had been almost a month since I had come here, and I wasn't dead yet. God knows I had come close a few times, especially with all the damn walking I was, and would be, doing. One thing was for certain: I would have a killer body when this was all over. The thought made me laugh a little, and it cheered me up a bit. I walked to the window, and looked out over Edoras. I really hoped that my meddling wouldn't cause this city to be destroyed.

I turned back, and threw all my things into my bag, and exited my room. At the very least, I was packed now, and ready to go, thankfully. I shut the door behind me, and began to walk down the hall. I had no idea what I was planning on doing for the rest of the day, but I couldn't stay cooped up in that tiny room the whole time; I would go crazy.

As I was walking down the hall, and door at the end opened up, and who should walk out, but Boromir. He glanced to his right as he exited what I assumed was his room, spotted me, and nodded once. I forced a smile on my face, as I walked up to him.

"Good morning, Lord Boromir." I said as pleasantly as I could. We had had no verbal apology to one another since our spat a week before, and had only exchanged strained smiles since then. Now was my chance to say I was sorry. However, before I could, Boromir spoke.

"Good morning Lady," he paused when I fixed him with a look, and a slight smile passed across his face, "Good morning, _Kayla_." He corrected himself, shutting the door behind him, and stepping more into the hall. "How do you fair this day?"

I shrugged, "Alright, I guess. It's been a busy week; I've just been packing, in case we have to leave suddenly. Knowing King Théoden, he'll want to get his people to safety as soon as possible."

The Gondorian nodded, his face solemn. "Indeed; it has been a trying week for all." He gestured down the hall, and we began to walk together towards the exit of the sleeping quarters. We walked in silence for a moment, before he spoke again. "I also wanted to apologize for my anger towards you last week, Kayla." This surprised me, and I glanced sideways at him. I wanted to say "What" or "Why", but instead I just brushed it off.

"Water under the bridge," I waved a hand, giving him what I hoped looked like a real smile. When he looked a little confused by my statement, I added, "We're fine. Everything is fine." This seemed to appease him, and we returned to silence. After a moment, I had a thought, and glanced sideways at him. "So, do you know when we'll be leaving? Bera, Éowyn's handmaiden, said it could be as early as tomorrow morning."

Boromir nodded slowly, "She is correct, though I do not know myself."

I nodded, "How are you injuries? Your ribs, specifically. Are they healing?"

He nodded, and I was filled with a bit of relief. "They are; the healers say I am about a fortnight, perhaps another week after that, until they are fully healed. The arrow wounds are all but gone, thanks to what you used on them." I felt a smile slide onto my face, but it was quickly replaced with a grimace. Boromir wasn't going to like this next part.

"That's good to hear about your arrow wounds, and that your ribs are almost all healed." I said slowly, "However…" My voice trailed away, and I felt him looking at me.

"What is it?" He asked, and I could hear his voice get a little darker. Great, he was already getting annoyed. We stopped walking, and I turned to face him, beginning to wring my hands slightly.

"Well, the thing is, Bera told me that we would be walking to Helm's Deep," I began slowly. "The elderly and the injured would have to travel by horse or wagon." I saw realization start to dawn on Boromir's face, and I pressed on before he could say anything. "Since your ribs aren't fully healed yet..."

He cut me off, "Surely you are not suggesting…?" He looked so defeated, and I actually almost laughed at him, but kept it together.

"I'm saying it's better than further injuring yourself – and riding in a wagon." I tried to smile at him, but he just shook his head, looking more exhausted than I had ever seen him. "Oh come on, Boromir," I tried, "It's not that bad. You can use the horse we used to get here, and that way it'll be less demeaning than having to ride in a wagon with the elderly and the severely injured."

He sighed, and looked away from me. "I want to argue, but I know that you have a point. Still, I am not pleased with this information."

I held up my hands, "Hey, at least you're hearing it from me and not from King Théoden. I figured it would be a little less patronising that way."

He nodded once, "You are correct; thank you for telling me this, Kayla. I do appreciate it." We had come to the end of the hall now, and were looking into the throne room. I could see Théoden standing near his throne, speaking to Aragorn and the others. "I would speak with the King now, please excuse me." He bowed slightly, and left me standing there, watching him go, and wondering how the events of the next few days would pan out.

* * *

Sure enough, almost as I had predicted, the following morning Théoden announced that we would be departing for Helm's Deep as quickly as possible that very day. I was glad I was fully packed, and that way I could help out everyone else as best I could.

We were out of the city by what I could guess was almost noon, judging by where the sun was in the sky. Edoras was slowly becoming a dot in the distance as we began to traverse the grassy, hilly, and rocky terrain of Rohan, towards our desired destination: Helm's Deep. We were travelling north, and I knew that on the other side of the mountains to our left, Isengard rested, waiting to unleash their army upon Helm's Deep.

Boromir had bitched a little bit about riding a horse all the way to Helm's Deep, but I had shut him up with a glare once we exited the city. Now, all of Edoras, and as many refugees from the other cities and villages in Rohan, were on our way towards the one place that would prove the deaths of many men and elves in the coming days, though they did not fully know it yet. Just thinking about it was giving me a migraine again, and I tried to ignore it as we walked, taking care to shield my eyes from the blinding sun, since it only made it worse.

We were a few hours in to the trek when Gimli fell off his horse after it galloped out of control. I saw Éowyn rush to his side, laughing and grinning, while looking back at Aragorn and Théoden, who were deep in conversation. I noted how Éowyn's expression changed when she looked at Aragorn, and I felt my heart ache for her. Yes, she would find love in Faramir someday, but for now she would be subjected to yearning for the affection of a man already spoken for.

I let out a loud snort when Gimli went down, and Boromir, who I was walking beside and who's horse I had attached my bag, glanced down at me. "Is something funny, Kayla?" He asked, his expression part amused, part exasperated.

I shook my head, still giggling slightly. "No, nothing, Gimli just fell off his horse." I pointed, and Boromir glanced ahead of us, and a small smile formed on his face, before he looked back down at me, his expression holding mild amusement, but not for what I was pointing at. He was silently judging what I was laughing at. I threw him an indignant look. "What? If we can't laugh at the little things, what hope is there for us?" I looked back ahead of us, at all the people marching, some to their unknowing deaths. "This is a dark time for these people. We should take happiness where we can find it. Don't you agree?" I looked back up at him, only to Boromir staring down at me thoughtfully. "What?" I asked, and absently touched my face. "Is there something on my face?"

Boromir seemed to snap out of his reverie. "No, there is not. Forgive me, I was taken by my own thoughts for a moment." When I raised an eyebrow, he added. "You are right, we should find peace where and when we are able. These are dark times indeed, for everyone, not just Rohan."

I nodded once, smiling up at him, satisfied with his reply, and we lapsed back into silence again until we stopped about an hour later to make food and rest. I was seated by the fire that Aragorn had built, munching on a piece of bread. I politely declined when Éowyn offered me some soup, since my stomach was all in knots, and I could barely even keep the bread down. I was getting more and more anxious the closer we got to Helm's Deep. I kept replaying what happened in the books and movies over and over in my head. What if things changed drastically because of what I'd done? What if someone else important died because of me? What if Boromir died now? Or Théoden? Or God forbid Aragorn. If Aragorn died then the rest of the journey would get completely fucked. Yes, Frodo and Sam would probably still destroy the One Ring, but there would be no one left to Rule Gondor. What if –

"You look distressed," My head shot up, and I found Boromir standing next to me. He was looking down at me with what I assumed was supposed to be a kindly expression, but it just made me feel a little more uneasy.

"I, what? No I don't." I managed to say as he sat down, and handed me a skein filled with water. I gratefully took it and drank deeply, before handing it back. "I'm fine, thanks for the water." I leaned back on my hands, looking around at all the people with us – from women to children, to young and old. I felt a stab of pity. "How long until we get there, do you think?" I asked, trying to change the topic.

"Given the pace we are taking, I suspect we will be there by nightfall." Boromir replied, and I nodded slowly, we returned to silence, and I took to observing Éowyn and Aragorn as they spoke nearby. It was perhaps another half hour before we set out again.

The sun was already getting high in the sky as we entered into what I hoped was the last few hours of our journey to Helm's Deep. My feet were starting to get extremely sore, even if I had managed to hide my sneakers under my dress. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I knew we had to keep going. Part of me wanted to ask Boromir if I could join him on his horse, but the rest of me didn't want to sound whiney, or embarrass myself.

It was about an hour in to the second half of the journey when I heard it.

It was faint, but I was almost certain I had heard it. A horn; not like the one Boromir had had. This one blasted once, faintly, and it sounded deep, and dark, and ominous. I strained my ears to try and hear it again, but was meant with the white noise of everyone traveling around me, instead. Had I imagined it?

"Kayla?" Boromir's voice broke through my thoughts. "Are you alright?"

I kept looking around when I replied, "Did you hear that?" I asked, trying to keep the mounting fear out of my voice.

"Hear what?" Boromir replied, looking around, his shoulders tensing, and his grey eyes narrowed. "Did you hear something?"

I paused, and Boromir slowed his horse until we were stopped completely. People passed us for a few moments, as I stood and listened. After a few minutes of not hearing anything, I shrugged. "I must have imagined it, never mind. Let's keep –"

There was a sudden cry from behind us. I whirled around and saw one of the guardsmen fall from his horse, an arrow protruding from his chest. Suddenly, the rider beside him went down as well, an arrow sticking out of his neck, and blood spurting everywhere. His helmet rolled off when he hit the ground, and I recognized the face of Famon, the guard who had first led me through Edoras a few weeks prior. I felt my heart constrict, as I stared in horror. What the fuck –

"Wargs!" Someone yelled ahead of us.

"Orcs!" Yelled another.

"AMBUSH!" I heard Théoden yell from up ahead. I whirled on the spot, and sure enough, I could see black shapes come running over the hills surrounding us. Giant hyena-like creatures, with Orc riders, brandishing black bows and swords, racing towards the population of Edoras. I was frozen, staring in horror as black arrows flew through the air, piercing any and all targets in their paths. Innocents, and soldiers, were dropping like flies around us, and screams and the coppery scent of blood filled the air.

It was chaos.

I suddenly felt a hand seize the back of my dress, and I was being hauled upwards. I started screaming and kicking, trying to get free of whoever was holding onto me. It wasn't until I had been placed on the horse that I realized it was Boromir who had yanked me off the ground and onto his horse. We were now charging to the front of the group to find Théoden and Aragorn, who had their weapons drawn, and were ushering the people of Rohan ahead, while the remaining guards and men who could wield weapons stayed behind.

"Are you alright?" Boromir yelled over the roars of battle and death.

The world had gone quiet for me. I had just seen two people get killed right in front of me, one of which I had actually interacted with. Yes, I had seen my share of blood since being here, but I had not seen people, good people, get killed. All I could see was Famon's eyes, sightless, open and confused as his body fell from his horse, and life bled from him. I had talked to him, or at least tried to, I had seen him moving, breathing… _Living._ And now he was… Now he was…

"Kayla!" Boromir's sharp voice brought me back to reality, and all the sound came rushing in.

"I forgot about this part," I managed to say, my voice catching in my throat, and coming out much scratchier than I had anticipated. I hadn't even realized what I'd said until Boromir spoke.

"What are you talking about, Kayla?" He asked, concern in his voice. I realized now that we were at the front with Théoden, Aragorn, and the others.

"She is in shock," Aragorn said stiffly. "Théoden, we must act quickly – the people are in danger." An arrow came whizzing by, narrowly missing Aragorn's shoulder, and we all jumped. I felt Boromir's grip on my waist tighten, and for a moment I couldn't breathe.

Théoden reacted quickly, quicker than I thought he would. He turned to Boromir and I. "Lord Boromir, you are still too injured to remain and fight. Take Lady Éowyn and help her lead the people to safety. We will stay and stop these beasts, and rejoin you at Helm's Deep."

Boromir began to protest. "My Lord, I can stay –"

Théoden interjected, "I gave you an order, Lord Boromir. Do I make myself clear?" There was no room for any arguing, and I think Boromir knew that. He fell silent, and simply nodded once.

"As you wish, King Théoden."

The King of Rohan nodded, "Go, and hurry." We disbanded then, and Boromir led the horse quickly farther ahead to where the rest of the people were, including Éowyn. We rode up, and found that she had already begun to lead the people away from the battle. Boromir and she exchanged a few quick words, and he relayed what Théoden had instructed of them. We would ride ahead and lead the group that way. Just as we were about to move, an arrow flew straight by my ear. I even felt the wood of the shaft graze my skin, and I cried out in terror.

Boromir's grip on my waist turned to iron. "Kayla! Are you alright?"

"Yes," I managed to gasp shakily, "You?" I turned back to look at him, and I knew I was probably as white as a ghost. Tears of terror swam in my eyes, and my vision became blurry, as Boromir's features melded together.

"Yes," he replied, his voice as kind and gentle as he could be given the situation. "We must go now. Keep your head down, and hang on tightly."

I did just that, and even as we galloped away from the horror and destruction behind us, the coppery smell of the innocent blood that had been shed stayed with me all the way to Helm's Deep.

* * *

Just as Boromir had said, we arrived at the fortress just as night was beginning to fall. The people of Rohan stumbled into the keep, and began to unpack. Much of what we had tried to bring with us had been left behind when we had been ambushed, so we were short on food and supplies. Those few who had sustained injuries and survived were immediately tended to by the healers, but I could tell that we were in short supply of everything important.

Éowyn was running around, taking care of anything and everything she could, and I was doing the same. Boromir was doing his best to coordinate a plan of attack with the remaining forces within Helm's Deep, in case there was a secondary attack if the others didn't come back. He was somewhere at the top of the Keep, and Éowyn and I were at the bottom with the rest of the people of Rohan. Much to my relief, both Aedre and Bera had survived the attack without sustaining any injuries, and were also helping Éowyn take control of everything.

It was in a moment that I stopped to breathe that I really took everything in. All around us the stone walls of Helm's Deep rose, higher than I thought they'd be. Water and mould seeped inside like a sickness, and parts of the great fortress were falling down. It was just a decrepit as I had feared it would be. There wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell that it could withstand that battle that was only days away from happening. I could hear the water trickling down the stones, the distant cries of those who had lost friends and family during the ambush, and smell of the dead and dying.

It was a new kind of Hell; and it was only going to get worse.

It was turning into dawn when they returned – or what was left of them. I was a few floors up in the Keep, tending to a few wounded villagers, when I heard the horn that sounded King Théoden's return ring through the air. Even though I hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, I mustered all the strength I had to race down the slippery stone steps, nearly killing myself in the process, to greet them when the entered into Helm's Deep.

I made it down just as the men were settling in. It made me sick to my stomach when I saw how few of them had returned. I noticed Hàma and Théoden were both alive, thankfully, and that gave me some peace of mind. I kept craning my neck, until I saw the familiar white blonde head of Legolas gliding through the sea of grey and brown. I raced towards him, and threw my arms around the elf, slightly startling him. I pulled back, and did the same to Gimli, who stood beside him. When I pulled away, my face broke out in a huge grin.

"I'm _so_ glad you two are alright! You can't even begin to imagine how relieved I am." When their somber expressions didn't waver, I felt something tightening in my chest. I began to look around, realizing something – no, _someone_ was missing.

No.

No.

NO.

I had forgotten. _How_ could I have forgotten? This couldn't be happening. I thought that maybe, since I had changed parts of this, that maybe it wouldn't –

"Where is Aragorn?" I managed to whisper. When Legolas's eyes met mine, and I saw the pain in them, I felt like I wanted to start screaming. "No… Please, don't say it." I felt tears well in my eyes.

Legolas looked down, and I saw the silver jewel, the Evenstar, glittering in his palm. He held it out slowly, and the pale light of morning caught the gems. They sparkled like the tears that now fell from my eyes. "He fell"

The words were no simple, and yet they impacted me like getting a sledgehammer to the face. I took a step back, and stared at him, my breaths short and painful. "He… He was cut down?" I managed to utter.

"No," Gimli replied, his voice low and sad, and I turned my eyes to him. "He literally fell," his voice broke, and I felt a few more tears leak out. "He was fighting an orc, and became attached to a Warg – his leg was bound to the saddle." Gimli looked like this was causing him a lot of pain to describe, so Legolas placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, and took over. He turned to me, his blue eyes filled with grief.

"The Warg went over the cliff, and Aragorn fell with him."

I couldn't answer. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even more.

Something suddenly opened and willed me to speak.

"I have to get out of here," I managed to croak, before turning on my heel and racing away from the elf and the dwarf. I heard Legolas call after me, but I didn't look back. I tore up the steps again, nearly falling up the stairs this time, and to the highest floor I could get to. There was a ledge near the end of the empty stone room, and I ran to it, holding the edge in a white knuckle grip.

What if Aragorn never came back?

What if I had fucked up so badly that he didn't come back like he was supposed to? What if, because I had chosen to mess with the timeline, and save Boromir's life, this meant that Aragorn was actually dead? Had I costed Gondor their only means of salvation? Had I doomed the entirety of Middle Earth because I had let one person live? Had I –

My stomach lurched, and I vomited over the side of the ledge.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. I hadn't cried like this in weeks – not since my first night in this world. My body shook, and my eyes were squeezed shut so tightly that it hurt. I rocked back and forth, one hand gripping the ledge, the other clamped over my mouth to stifle my sobs.

"Kayla?" The voice cut through the agony like a knife. My head snapped up. Boromir was standing at the entrance to the room, his face filled with concern.

All at once my heart broke. How dare I wonder if things would be better if I had let this man die? Who was I to decide how better off a world would be if he had perished in the woods as he had supposed to? How could I _ever_ feel guilty for saving someone's life?

"Boromir…" I whispered, my face stained with tears and dirt, and my knees covered in dust from kneeling on the ground.

He moved forward silently, and pulled me to my feet. "Kayla, what is it? What's happened?" I tried to look away, but he took my face in his hands, and forced me to look at him. I felt my heart beat speed up as he did. "Look at me, Kayla, what is going on? Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

I gently pried his hands away. "I'm fine, Boromir." A pause. "No, actually no, I am not fine." Confusion radiated on his face, and I realized then that he didn't know yet. "Has Legolas not told you?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"Told me what?" The man asked, his face concerned and confused, "I was on my way down to meet with them, when I saw you run by and come up this way. You seemed to be in distress; I wanted to make certain you were not hurt before I spoke with the King."

My face was a mix of emotion. I was grateful for this concern, and agonized by what I was about to tell him. "Boromir," I began, my voice cracking horribly. "It's Aragorn… He… He didn't." Boromir drew back, his grey eyes pleading me not to tell him what he was now fearing. "He fell; there was a Warg running to the edge of the cliff, and he became tangled in its saddle and… He fell." I whispered the last two words.

There was a stunned silence for a moment. Neither of us said anything. Boromir just stood there, staring at me, his grey eyes holding mine, as though he hoped I would suddenly tell him I was joking, or Aragorn would suddenly walk through the door. When I said nothing more, the Gondorian slowly began to turn away from me, and I could tell he was in shock.

"Boromir," I reached after him. "I'm so sorry. I know he was your friend, and I –"

"It is fine." Boromir turned back to look at me, and there was a sad, strained smile on his face. "Aragorn is my friend, Kayla. He is also my captain, and my King." When I didn't say anything out of pure confusion, he pressed on. "We braved the Mines of Moria together, and travelled across Middle Earth together. Aragorn is a Ranger, and a capable man. He has been through far worse than merely falling from a cliff."

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open slightly out of surprise. "But Boromir, he, there was no sign of –"

He held up a hand. "I must seek King Théoden, and give him my condolences for the losses he has faced today." He smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. I could see the pent up anger and pain he was now feeling for the loss of his friend. "For now, we must do what he would expect of us, and that is to protect the people." His eyes were full of pain, regret, and bitterness, but he did know show it in his posture. He was trying to hide how upset he was by focusing on the tasks at hand. I was so moved by his strength, even if it was painful to witness, that I felt my lower lip begin to tremble again, and fresh tears began to fall. I looked down at my feet, and I didn't notice Boromir stepping forward until he was directly in front of me. I looked up at him, my face streaked with tears.

His face showed the internal struggle he was facing about keeping his emotions in check. He placed his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me. "Now, we must endure."

He looked so angry, and so sad in that moment, and his voice sounded so tired and defeated. I didn't even think about what I did next.

I wrapped my arms around his middle, drawing him into a hug. My face was pressed into his chest, and, after a moment, he weakly lifted his arms and wrapped them around me, as well. We stood like that for a moment, before he pulled back, placing his hands on my shoulders, and looking down at me, that same, strained smile on his face.

"We must have courage, Lady Kayla. We will need it in the coming days." His voice broke slightly at the end, and he squeezed my shoulders once, before turning and walking away from me, and out of the room. He paused as he came to the door, and looked back at me, this time his smile did reach his eyes, a little bit. "We will endure. We must; for Aragorn."

Then he was gone, and I was left alone in the stone room again. I thought I heard a deep sigh, before the sound of his boots died away. I stood for a moment, my eyes burning from the tears I had shed.

"I hope so."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Thanks for reading, all! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! We all know what's coming next (at least, I hope you do). Thank you to everyone who has R &R'd and Followed and Fav'd this, even though I haven't updated in over a month! It is appreciated.**


	12. Waiting for the Ball to Drop

**A/N:** **I am pleased to say that the urge to write as returned. Big thank you to my reviewers for pointing out come inconsistencies in their reviews; it really helps me make this story as "realistic" as a "Girl Falls into Middle Earth" story can be. There will be a few page breaks during this chapter leading up to the Battle, since a lot will happen before hand. Big thanks for reading, all! Enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Twelve:**

 **Waiting for the Ball to Drop**

* * *

I stood in the empty stone room, listening to the sound of the wind as it gently whistled through the rocks, and the water dripping all throughout Helm's Deep. It made a soft _tap, tap_ noise as it fell, and I thought I felt a few hit my face and neck. My mind was still reeling from the conversation I had just had with Boromir. The poor man had looked so broken, but he had, surprisingly, kept it all inside, something that was odd even for him. I was so used to him exploding, or at the very least, snapping or being condescending. But this… Almost just shutting down as he had – it pained me more than I expected. Had I gone too far by hugging him? Isn't that what normal people do in situations where a loved one (that "loved one" being Aragorn in this case) died unexpectedly, or something bad happened to them? Maybe it was a common thing to do in my world, but here I couldn't say. All I knew was that it was probably best to let him be, and let him work with Théoden while they still could. The battle was incoming, and we were running out of time.

My breath was shaky, probably from the fact that I had just vomited. I sat moved back to the ledge I had been standing at when Boromir had found me, and rested my hands on it. From up here, I could almost see over the walls of Helm's Deep. To my right, there were mountains, and I knew on the other side was Isengard. Farther still southward, Edoras lay, and beyond that, the ridges that led to Gondor. Being here, in this place, facing what could be the end to it all, I wondered if I would ever make it to Gondor, and if I would ever be able to find out how I came here and, more importantly, how I would get home.

"This isn't funny anymore." The strength of my own voice surprised me, and I felt new tears sting my eyes. I looked up at the greying sky above me, knowing that, in the next day or so, the armies or Isengard would arrive, and a lot of innocent people were going to die. "This isn't funny anymore!" I said it more loudly this time, feeling frustration and anger start to bubble up inside me, much as I had seen happening in Boromir's eyes only minutes before.

"I don't know who you are, and I don't know why you sent me here, but it isn't funny anymore! This is real, and painful, and scary, and dangerous! _Real_ people are dying; _real_ lives are being destroyed!" Anger filled me to the brim, and I had to grip the stone ledge to keep from getting any more upset. I squeezed my eyes shut. _There's no place like home, there's no place like home_. I chanted those words in my head for what felt like an age, and when I opened my eyes again, I found myself still looking at the stone ledge, and still being able to hear the _drip, drip_ of the water in Helm's Deep. I let out a sigh, and felt a few more tears fall.

I just wanted to go home.

* * *

"Kayla! What happened to you?"

Bera was staring at me, her eyes wide, and she hurried over to examine me thoroughly. She was probably worried because my dress was covered in dirt, dust, and water, and my face was streaked with tears. I probably looked pale having vomited, and my face most likely held confusion from my recent encounter with a certain Gondorian Captain; not to mention my wondering on what would happen next.

We were standing in a small room near the area of Helm's Deep that the Healers had set up in. Outside I could hear the sounds of pain and death, and the semi-soothing voices of the healers as they reassured the injured and dying. It was both commendable, and depressing. I had returned from my little episode and encounter with Boromir only moments before, and I knew I didn't look any close to normal.

"I'm fine, Bera," I managed, gently pushing her off of me, and striding across the small, unsurprisingly stone, room to grab a cloth to clean off my face. I had given up on basic hygiene until this was all over. I would bathe myself properly again after we won – if we won.

"But you look as though you have been through something terrible," the girl pressed on, regarding me with concern. "Has something happened?"

I turned, trying very hard not to look at her with too much incredulity. "Aragorn fell in the ambush." It hurt even saying it out loud, much as it did to think that he was gone for good, and I had fucked up so badly that he wasn't coming back.

Bera's eyes widened. "Oh," she suddenly looked very sad, if not a little guilty. "I am so sorry, Kayla." She mumbled, coming towards me again. She gripped my hands, and this time I didn't pull away. "Lady Éowyn told me what had happened. I had forgotten that he was your friend, as well; that you had travelled with him and his group to Edoras." She squeezed my hands once, before letting them drop. "I am truly sorry, Kayla; I am."

I nodded, feeling a lump start to form in my throat. I turned away, "Thank you, Bera, I appreciate it." I wetted the cloth I was still holding from a pitcher on a nearby table, and pressed it to my eyes. My head was throbbing, and I knew that I would be getting another migraine in the next few hours, if I was lucky. If it came now, I doubted I would be able to do any job I was given properly. Powering through the pain was an option, but not an ideal one. Christ, I felt terrible. All I wanted to do was sleep.

"I saw Lord Boromir come by before you came back," Bera said, her voice was soft – that of someone treading on broken glass around a sensitive topic. "Has he heard the news of Lord Aragorn?"

I nodded once, "He has; I told him before I came back here." I patted down my cheeks, and the back of my neck with the cool cloth, relishing in the feeling of it on my burning skin.

"How did he handle the news?" Bera asked, moving away across the room to gather up more bandages. We would probably have to return to tending to the wounded from the ambush now.

I shrugged, trying to brush off the conversation as best I could. "Well enough, I suppose. I think he wants to distract himself by throwing himself into the plans for the next few days if we get attacked again."

"He and Lord Aragorn always appeared to be close – my heart aches for him." Bera let out a small, sad sigh as she picked up the same wicker basket we had used for laundry back in Edoras. "He is a strong man, however, and I am sure his grief will be channeled well into battle plans."

I felt a stab of something, but ignored it. Instead, I forced a smile on my face, and nodded again. "You're right. One of the last things he said to me before we parted ways was that we have to endure now; it's all we can do." Bera gave me a small smile, squeezed my arm once more, before turning away and leaving me alone once again. I decided now would be a good time to get changed into a somewhat cleaner outfit before going back out to help with tending to the refugees.

I went to my pack, which was slightly soaked with water from the constant dripping in Helm's Deep, and found the other dress I had, which looked exactly like the one I was already wearing, minus the dust, water, and what suspiciously looked like dried vomit from when I had puked up a lung earlier. I pulled my old dress off, hissing at the cold air as it stung my semi bare skin, and yanked the new-ish one over my head. I folded up the old one, and threw it back in my pack, before running my brush through my hair, as well.

My hair was definitely getting longer. I knew because my bangs now tickled just under my eye, which was why I had kept wearing them in a braid along my hairline, in order to keep them out of the way. I hadn't had long hair in a number of years and, unless I could find some sort of barber in the next little while, I would have longer hair again in no time. It would only be a matter of time before it tickled by collar bones again, and then who only knew what I would do with it then. Unruly mess is what it was becoming.

I exited the room, and was greeted with the stench of the dying, and the sounds of it. I steeled myself, trying to think of anything but what was going on at present. I figured I would go find Éowyn, and see if she needed any help with anything while I bided my time, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

I passed the steps that led up to the Keep where Théoden had taken up refuge, and spotted Boromir speaking with Legolas and Gimli, no doubt waiting for the King to reappear. As I was looking up at them while I walked by, Boromir spotted me, and our gazes caught for a moment. I gave him a small, sad smile, which he returned, though his looked much more strained than mine.

Even as our eye contact broke, and the three headed inside the Keep, I found that my eyes didn't leave him until he was out of sight.

* * *

It had been nearly three days since our arrival at Helm's Deep, and there was still no sign of Aragorn. I was beginning to get more and more panicked as each day went by. Shouldn't he have been back by now? Why wasn't he back yet? I think the others were starting to sense the impending doom that lurked just beyond the mountains in which Helm's Deep was nestled.

I had kept myself as busy as I could for those three days, and let me say it had not been easy. My mind kept coming back to Aragorn, and if he was going to return any time soon. Hell, I had no idea when the armies of Isengard were going to be upon us, either. These people had no idea what was coming, and it pained me, knowing that so many more would be lost in such a short period of time.

I was walking back to my quarters near the steps that led up to the Keep, when I spotted Boromir descending from what I assumed was an audience with Théoden. I was just passing the steps as he came to the bottom, and he stopped short upon spotting me.

"Kayla," he inclined his head once upon seeing me. "How are you?" He was asking out of politeness, not out of really wanting to know. We were all in a bad way right now, and I knew he knew that.

I played along, for his sake, and the sake of the others. "I'm fine; how are you?" I shifted the basket carrying dirty and bloody bandages in my arms. I had been taking them back to be cleaned.

The smile he gave me was, once again, heavily strained, and did not reach anywhere near his eyes. "I am well; I have just taken leave of King Théoden to find myself some food and drink, while he discusses more with Captain Hàma."

I could've let the conversation end there. I could've nodded, said it was nice chatting, and let him be on his way. I could've gone back to my quarters, and washed another load of dirty, grimy, and blood covered bandages. I could've done a lot of things.

But I didn't.

Instead, I fixed him with a look. "No, Boromir, I mean it: how are you?" When his eyebrows raised in confusion, I put the basket I was holding down, and looked at him again. "I'm serious – how have you been holding up? You know, since…" My voice trailed off at this, and I think he knew what I was going to say.

Realization dawned on his face. "Ah, I see you are asking for the truth." When I nodded, the look he gave me was filled with pain. He gestured slightly to the side, and I took it to mean he wanted us to move. I picked up the basket again, and we drifted off and away from the base of the steps, so that we weren't in the way.

When we came to a stop, he looked away for a second, before looking back at me. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "I will not lie to you, Kayla, this has not been easy." His sounded so tired. "I will admit, I do not know where to begin."

I put the basket down, moving forward. "I know; and I know this is hard for you to talk about, so I'm not going to pressure you, but –" I paused, trying to find the right words myself. After a second, I spoke again. "Look, I know that in the past, you and I haven't exactly gotten along; we've had our fair share of disagreements." I saw a small smirk pass along his face. Finally, a real smile, even if it was slightly mocking. I pressed on, "But, Boromir, I know from experience that not talking about the things that cause us pain, only makes that pain worse."

There was a brief paused, in which Boromir opened his mouth to speak. "Kayla –"

"I know you're busy," I added quickly, "So I won't keep you any longer." I looked up at him, hoping to look as earnest as possible, "But I want you to know that if, for whatever reason, you do need to talk about all of this, I'm willing to listen."

Boromir stared down at me, his grey eyes filled with confusion, and perhaps the slightest bit of compassion. "I – thank you." He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't. I took this opportunity to add my one, final comment, before returning to my duties, and stop keeping him from his.

"This hasn't been easy for any of us. If we don't all stick together, we'll never make it out of this alive." I gave him my best "I'm trying to be a good friend" smile, which he returned, albeit with a little more confusion. I tried to make light of what I think I had made into an unnecessarily awkward situation. "Now go, and get something to eat. I've wasted enough of your time for one day." I picked up the basket again, and rested it against my hip, and gave Boromir a small nod as a goodbye. As I was walking out, I turned back to say one last thing.

"Oh, and tell Legolas and Gimli that the same thing goes for them, as well." When his eyebrow rose, I added. "I probably wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for all of you. The least I can do is listen if any of you need to vent about what happened." I left on that, since I knew he really was probably very busy, and I had my own things to get done.

I hurried back down to my quarters, without so much as a backwards glance. I hoped what I said had helped. I had meant it: I would most likely be _very_ dead right now, had I not run into the Fellowship. I was grateful that they had allowed me to travel for as long as they did, and even more so how I now had a semi stable living situation, and enough food to survive. (The latter being debateable at this point, seeing as we were slowly running low on provisions as a collective.)

Despite only knowing these people for over a month, I really had come to care about their well-beings. They had been kind to me, and they were going through so much. I couldn't use a weapon to save my own, or anyone else's, lives, and I couldn't track missing Hobbits, or even see distances without my glasses. I knew a little about being a Healer, but that was only from what Aedre and Bera had taught me. Right now, the best thing I could do was be kind to them in these dark times, and I would use my powers for good, dammit.

* * *

It was around midday when I heard the footsteps. My head shot up from my work of cleaning those damned cloths to bring back to the healers when the sound filled my ears. My chest constricted, and my heart began to pound. What had happened? Was the army here now? Were we in danger? I could see people running by the room I was in, and there was loud chatter, sounding somewhat excited, mixed with fear. What was going on? I leapt up, tossing the cloths aside and into the basket, before racing out of the room. I wanted to get a good view of what was going on, so I raced up the steps towards the Keep, in order to look out over Helm's Deep.

I made it to the top of the stairs, and was about to whip around and look to see what was going on, when I froze.

Just ahead of me, perhaps fifty paces or so, stood Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir. But I wasn't looking at them. I was looking at the fourth with them, in all his bloody, drenched, and very much alive glory.

It was Aragorn.

Legolas glanced passed the Ranger, having spotted me come racing up the stairs, and a small smile passed across his face. The other turned or glanced in my direction upon noticing Legolas looking at me. When Aragorn turned around and saw me there, a small, half smile crossed his face. At that, I broke into a sprint, racing up to him, and coming to a stop directly before the future King of Gondor. I stood there, staring at him for a second, before throwing my arms around him in a back breaking hug.

"Oh, thank _God!_ " I cried happily, as I pulled away to get a good look at the man. "Are you alright; do you have any severe injuries? I'm so happy you're alive!" I couldn't even get the last words out before I hugged him again. Aragorn let out a snort laugh, gently patting my back as I hugged him. I took that as my queue to let go, and did so quickly, my face red from embarrassment.

Aragorn turned his gaze away from me to address us as a group. "I have news; but I must speak with the King first." He nodded to us all once, before heading for the entrance to the Keep. I watched him go until he was out of sight, and the huge wooden doors had slammed behind him. When they had closed, I exhaled in relief, shaking my head while trying to supress a grin. I glanced to my right, and saw Boromir was fixing me with a stare. He looked almost amused. Almost.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Like you're not happy he's alive!" When I said this, Boromir actually chuckled. The sound sounded so unfamiliar, given how negative and bleak things had been lately.

"I am glad, of course, Kayla." When I gave him the "but what else?" look, he simply said. "I will follow Aragorn into the Keep. No doubt he must be updated on the plans King Théoden and I have discussed. He nodded once, bid us all farewell, and entered the Keep after Aragorn.

I sighed, throwing a look at Legolas and Gimli, who had remained outside with me. "He'll never admit it, but he's just as happy as I am about this."

When I was given only a slight smile from the elf, and a deep chuckle from the dwarf, I gave up, rolling my eyes, and descended the steps back into my quarters where I kept working away on cleaning the cloths.

I was ecstatic. Aragorn was alive, and I couldn't be more thrilled. My royal fuckery hadn't costed an innocent man his life, and Gondor still had hope of having a King to rule them. All we had to do now was try to survive the Battle of Helm's Deep, and things would move along smoothly. At least, I hope they would. I had no idea what was going to happen when the battle actually happened. Where would I go? What would I do? What if they were all killed during the battle? What if Aragorn died – what if…?

"Stop it," I told myself. "Just stop it, Kayla." I busied myself with cleaning. "You can't start freaking out until you know exactly what's going on. Yes, your anxiety wants you to start having a panic attack and hyperventilating because you have no idea what's going to happen, but you need to get a goddamn grip."

I worked for the next hour cleaning the cloths, until I had gotten most of the blood and dirt off of them. I figured it would be enough to use them again on the wounded, and was about to exit the room with them, when I saw a troupe of men march by the door. It looked like guards but…

Oh crap.

It wasn't just guards that were marching by. There were men, and even younger looking boys, maybe twelve at the youngest. They were all equipping themselves with weapons and… Was that armor one of the boy's was wearing?

Uh oh.

I put down the basket, and ran out of my quarters. I had only run a few paces, before almost accidentally tacking Bera. The girl let out a shriek when we nearly collided. I leapt back, quickly, apologizing profusely.

"Bera," I managed once we had both caught our breaths. "What's going on? I saw men in armor – and not just guards. Why are there young boys holding weapons?"

Bera's eyes were wide with fear. "I have just spoken with Lady Éowyn, Kayla. It is not good news I bring."

I felt fear begin to seep into my veins. "Bera – what's happened?"

The girl looked like a terrified child. "Lord Aragorn returned not long ago," when I nodded, indicating I already knew, she continued hurriedly. "My Lady said he brought word of an army approaching Helm's Deep."

I paled, "An army?"

She nodded, and I could see the sheer terror in her eyes, and hear it in her voice when she spoke. "An army of ten thousand. They will be here by nightfall."

* * *

The women, children, and elderly were being herded like cattle into the caves that Helm's Deep sat upon. Every able-bodied man, elder, and even young boy was being instructed by the King to take up arms against the oncoming assault that would surely be upon us in no time. Everyone was running around the Keep, trying to gather as their belongings together, before either hurrying to the caves, or being put in armor.

I had spent the last two hours moving food, supplies, weapons, and the injured into the caves. Now, as the sun had set and darkness was creeping into Helm's Deep, I was standing outside of the quarters I had been working in earlier, staring at the impending chaos unfolding around me. I saw men, women, children, and guards rushing up and down the stairs, securing doors, and bidding tearful goodbyes to each other. It was heart breaking, and also somewhat humbling. These people had nothing but each other. Their love for one another was so pure and untainted. I envied them a little.

It was when I saw Boromir, clad in armor and wielding a sword and shield, coming down the steps with Aragorn and Théoden that I realized, despite his injuries, he would still be fighting. I leapt to my feet as they walked by, and caught Aragorn's arm

"Aragorn, I'm sorry, could I ask you something?" The ranger fixed me with a look; he was very busy, and I knew this was probably a bad time, but I had to ask. "The injured… Are they fighting as well? I mean, not the severely injured. But, say, if they only had partially healed ribs, for example? Would they still be fighting?"

It only took Aragorn a brief moment to realize what I was referring to. "All able bodied men must fight tonight, Kayla, as King Théoden has ordered. If they can hold a sword, they must fight."

My eyebrows knitted together in worry. "But what if they aren't fully healed yet? Is this not more like a suicide mission for them?"

Aragorn began to turn away to follow after Théoden, "We face what could be an impossible feat, Kayla. If you have concerns…" I could see the regret, sadness, and contempt in his eyes towards this whole thing. "My only suggestion would be to say your goodbyes now." He didn't need to continue for me to get the gist.

I moved forward and gripped his arms gently for a moment. "Good luck, Aragorn; and be careful."

He smiled once, briefly. "You should go to the caves now, Kayla, and remain in safety as best you can."

I nodded, "I know; I will. I just have a few things to do before, but I will soon."

He nodded, "See to it that it is soon – they will be upon us before too long." He inclined his head once, and departed to join Théoden and Boromir, who were standing at the edge of the stairs that led up to the battlements. I could smell rain, and I knew it wasn't far off. As I watched them, Boromir noticed me, excused himself, and approached me.

"It is a grave evening we face," he began. He looked grim, and I knew he was probably assuming the same as everyone else: we were all going to die.

I looked down, trying to hide the fear in my face. "It is." We were both silent for a moment, before he spoke again.

"You should return to the caves, Kayla. You will be safer there." He meant it to be kind, I'm sure, but it only sounded like "It'll take them longer to get to you and kill you, that way".

I felt my lower lip begin to tremble. I had never been so scared in my life. I blinked back tears, and looked back up at him. "I'm about to; I just wanted to wish you luck before…" My voice trailed away, and Boromir nodded once.

"Thank you, Kayla, truly. We will need all our luck on this evening."

I nodded in return, and he began to turn away to ascend to the battlements. As he was walking away, I felt a word vomit start to bubble up inside my stomach. I tried to fight it, but it came out anyway.

"Promise me you'll come back."

Upon saying this, I felt really stupid. No one could guarantee their safety in war like this, not even a seasoned warrior like Boromir, or a skilled Ranger like Aragorn. Boromir turned back to face me, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry?"

I took a breath, and forced a smile on my face. "You heard me. I didn't spend a week of my life looking after you to have you go dying on me tonight." He was staring at me with a mixture of surprise, amusement, and slight exasperation. I tried to sound light and calm. "Don't make me regret saving you, now." He let out an only slightly mirthless chuckle, and I tried to keep my own smile on my face, but it felt like my skin was threatening to shatter. "Good luck, by the way." I added.

He had his own, pained smile fixed on his face. "And you as well; remain in safety with the others, and do not be afraid to take up arms should the time come." He turned away again, and as he was walking up to the steps for the second time, he looked back, his face still grim, but a slight smile on his lips. "I will do all I can to not cause you any regret for all you have done, Kayla." And then he was gone, and I was left standing alone in the slowly emptying Helm's Deep.

Behind me, I heard someone call my name. "Kayla! We must hurry to the caves!" I turned, and saw Bera waiting for me, her young face set, but also fearful. I nodded, and hurried after her, all the while blinking away the sting of tears that threatened to fall.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I decided to cut this chapter short here. I realized after beginning it that I bit off a little more than I could chew with this one, so feel free to consider this a filler chapter. The actual battle chapter will most likely be very long, so I wanted to avoid a 40 page chapter, and instead split it into two chapters (mostly to waste more time, ha!) I hope you all enjoyed this! R &R, please!**


	13. Playing Battleship is Easier

**A/N:** **Hey, all. Not a long Author's Note here; we all know what's about to happen. Enjoy my attempt at writing action from the point of view of a girl in a cave! R &R, please! And enjoy. **

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Thirteen:**

 **Playing Battleship is easier than sitting in a Cave**

* * *

Waiting for a battle to start is like waiting for The Ball to drop in Times Square on New Year's Eve. At the last second, everything can fall apart, and someone could end up getting squished. At least, that's how I always viewed it. The point is: it's stressful, not fun, and I hated it. I'm not sure if comparing someone getting squished by the New Year's Eve ball is even remotely close to someone dying in battle, with a sword through their gut, but I didn't care at this point. If I was going to die tonight, dammit, I would compare battle to whatever the hell I wanted to.

Word had come not long after we had descended into the caves, that some of the elves of Lórien had shown up to help defend the people of Rohan – Aragorn's doing, no doubt. I had breathed a sigh of relief when I heard, since that meant at least Helm's Deep had a few more reinforcements, and perhaps a smaller chance and surviving a little longer. At this point, I wasn't counting on Gandalf returning with the Rohirrim, or at all for that matter. I was too superstitious that I had royally screwed up all of this to even begin to imagine a world where everything was sunshine and rainbows, and no one important to me died or got hurt.

Despite the underground caverns beneath Helm's Deep being so vast and empty, no sound echoed within them. There was only the soft _drip, drip_ of water on the stalagmites and stalactites that surrounded us. I could hear a child, perhaps a baby, crying somewhere within the caves, and the only other sound was the rustling and shuffling of those within the caves. Everyone was still and silent as the grave, awaiting what could be our demise, or victory.

Bera was sitting with me, her golden head in her hands, and her skin nearly as pale as mine. She looked as awful as I felt. We had already been down here for over an hour, and couldn't hear anything from above us. The only thing I could hear, if I strained my ears enough, was the distant sound of rain and, once every few minutes, the rumbles of thunder. I knew it wouldn't be long before the sounds of battle, death, and destruction made their way to us.

We had brought what we could down into the caves with us – food, water, blankets, and even a wagon or two so the more severely injured could lay down and rest. We had even managed to grab a few weapons, just in case things went from bad to worse really quickly. There were a few swords, daggers, and a few dozen arrows, complete with bows to fire said arrows. It wasn't much, but in the thick of fear and demise, we needed a means to fight until we could fight no longer.

It was into the second hour of sitting in the damp, cold, and miserable cave that we heard it. The shouting and, not long after, clanging of metal on metal.

Each _bang_ and _clang_ from above us sent wave after wave of fear rushing through me. I didn't know if each shout of pain I heard, or each roar from one of the beasts up there, or even the clashing or swords and shields, meant someone I knew had died. I prayed every time I heard a dying yell from a man or elf above us, that it wasn't one of the Fellowship, or Théoden.

It was the waiting that caused the most agony for me. It was sitting there, knowing that, at any moment, it could all be over. I had no idea what was going to happen, and it was slowly making me go insane. In fact, it was starting to get to me so much, that my lower abdomen was starting to hurt, almost like an ache –

Wait a second.

Oh, _hell_ no.

It hadn't really occurred to me until now that, during the entire month-and-a-bit that I had been here, I hadn't once, not _once_ , had a certain… Shall we say, "Visit"? I mean, when one is put under a shit ton of stress, both physically and mentally, in this case from being thrown into a world that was not only not mine, but _fictional_ , one's body can react badly. Something my body did sometimes was make me "late", despite that fact that I took precautions to make my "lateness" not a thing. My body liked to hate me, and make me suffer for either twice the amount of time I usually had to, or make me wait a week longer than I needed to, and then surprise me. I suppose seeing as how much stress I had been under lately, it made sense that it would come late.

But _now?_ Why the hell _now?_

Fuck.

I excused myself to Bera, and grabbed my pack, which lay next to me on the ground. As I scurried away to hide behind a stalagmite, I frantically searched inside for a, well, a-you-know-what. Thankfully, and I mean thank-fuck-fully, I found that I had three, actually. This wouldn't help me tomorrow, but at least for now, I had something. I made myself decent, and scurried back to my spot next to Bera. She raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing, and went back to looking melancholy, and I went back to being broody.

I mean, it made sense as to why I had been more emotional than usual in these last few days. Hell, it explained why I'd been nicer to Boromir, too. Not that I was mean to him (not intentionally, anyway. [Okay, maybe a little, sometimes.]) But normally, I wouldn't be so "I want to listen to your problems" or "HUG ME". I would be kind, of course, but I had been more emotionally distraught than I think I normally would have been had my body not been hating on me. It made more sense now – how I had been feeling lately could be linked to this, and only this. Right? But still, why did it have to happen _now?_ As if the universe wasn't be shitty enough as it was. I pitied whoever had to deal with me with my emotions went from sad to horrifying.

 _BOOM!_

My head shot up, and for a moment I was distracted from the ache in my abdomen as the cave shook around us. It had sounded like an explosion. Had the walls already been breached? My eyes flew to Éowyn, who stood nearby. Her gaze fell on Bera and I, and I saw her normally pale skin had lost even more of its colour.

She approached us slowly, taking care to keep her voice down. "We must move further into the caves." Her tone was grave, and I felt fear tug at my heart.

"What do you mean, my Lady?" Bera asked, her voice barely above a whisper, and her young face terrified.

Éowyn was about to respond, when another distant blast echoed throughout our stone prison. This time however, I heard another noise coupled with the ringing of the explosion. It sounded like scurrying, or perhaps the sound of…

 _Voices_.

I froze, and my head whipped to face Éowyn, and the terror I saw in her eyes confirmed my fears. Not only had the army of Uruk-hai, orcs, and goblins, breached the walls of Helm's Deep…

They had also gotten into the caves.

No sooner had we all registered what we had heard, did Éowyn begin moving from group to group within the cave, telling everyone she could to pack up, and move out. She kept her voice level and calm, as to not worry her people any more than necessary. Bera was right behind her, doing exactly the same thing and, within a few moments, we were all moving again, deeper into the caves.

I only had two thoughts on my mind: one, we were only delaying what would be a blood bath by only an hour at the most, and two, if these monsters had reached the caves, what did that mean for the men fighting on the surface?

We'd only made about twenty minutes of progress, and down a particularly narrow and tunnel-ish part of the caves, when I heard that _sound_ again. The same sound from earlier: the sound of voices that were not, but perhaps had once been, human.

And they were getting closer.

We had come to, what I would consider, a "clearing" in the caves. Basically it was a large chamber that opened up when we all exited the marrow pathways we had been taking. It meant that, if these creatures were stalking us within what we had hoped was a safe haven, then maybe, just maybe, we could actually get a sneak attack in. Provided that someone of us actually knew how to use weapons, which I did not.

I think Éowyn had the same idea I did, because as we herded everyone into the chamber, she began approaching a few women, and speaking with them. As she spoke with them, they each moved away from her, and began to gather weapons into their arms. A few grabbed swords, others shields, some daggers, and a couple took bows. Much like Théoden had done above us, Éowyn was gathering together as many able bodied women she could, who knew how to hold to a weapon. If we were going die, we weren't going to die without a fight.

Suddenly, one of the women Éowyn had spoken to, and who had, I guessed (I hadn't been looking), scouted to the edge of the tunnel, came rushing back into the chamber, looking scared. She ran up to Éowyn, and whispered something in her ear. Éowyn paled at whatever the woman had said, and immediately approached Bera and I.

"Esme has told me that she has seen some of the creatures in the tunnels. They are approaching, and will be upon us at any moment." She pointed around us; there were three entrances into the chamber, through all of which I was certain these monsters could come through. "We must position ourselves at the entrances to each tunnel, and be ready to fight." Without a word, Bera was away from my side in a flash, rushing to grab a short-sword from our measly pile of weapons. It took me a second to realize that Éowyn was looking at me, as well, and, upon understanding that she also expected _me_ to grab a weapon, I panicked.

She was walking away before I could say anything, so I was left standing there, staring after her, my heart pounding against my rib cage. Bera came back up to me, shoved something into my hands, and hurried away after Éowyn. I looked down, and found myself holding a bow, and a few arrows. I hadn't used a bow and arrow since I was about thirteen, when I went away to camp one summer. Even then, I had barely been able to hit the damn target. I had almost shot my own camp counsellor, for God's sake.

I didn't really have any more time to react, when Éowyn was motioning for me to follow her and Bera into the tunnel. I hurried after them into the darkness, and nearly tripped over Bera when I walked into her back. She had stopped, stock still, with Éowyn standing in front of her.

"What is it?" I hissed, trying to keep my voice down. Bera put a finger to her lips, and pointed ahead of us. I squinted into the darkness, and I think my heart stopped.

There, at the end of the tunnel, unable to see us, thank God, since we were hidden in the shadows, and around the bend in the tunnel was, what I assumed to be, an orc.

It was clad in black armor, and had a sharp, black metal helmet on its head. It carried what looked like a huge, black claymore in one hand, which terrified because those things are huge, and a nasty looking shield in the other. It was chattering to what I prayed was itself, but most likely another creature like it.

It was also coming right for us.

Éowyn suddenly reached for the dagger she had strapped to her belt. I mentally thanked whatever God was out there that we had at least made sure to grab a few weapons before descending into the caves. I watched in amazement as she then stepped out from behind our hiding place, and proceeded to hurl the dagger through the air. I stared, my mouth hanging open slightly, as it twirled over and over, spinning like the blades of a fan, and embedded itself within the gap in the armour of the Orc. The creature let out a single shriek, and keeled over backwards, as black blood began to pool beneath it where the dagger was now lodged in its breastplate.

I turned to stare at Éowyn. "Holy shit!" My voice rang throughout the tunnel, as I stared at her in awe. "That was amazing!"

She gave me a wry smile. "It is nothing, really. All women of Rohan should know how to wield a weapon. We are a land at war."

I was about to reply, when several shadows appeared down the tunnel, and we all froze. Crap, they were coming for us. Éowyn readied her sword when, suddenly, there were screams from behind us, down the hall. I whirled around, and I heard Éowyn curse.

 _They had made it to the others_.

We all turned and took off down the tunnel, sprinting back towards the chamber, knowing full well that behind us, there were at least two more Orcs or Uruk-hai following hot on your trail.

We skidded into the chamber, and the sight that met our eyes was utter chaos.

The elderly, the women, and the children, were being forced backwards through the chamber, towards what looked like a slight groove in the walls of stone. It made the perfect place to corner them all… And tear them apart. They were huddling together like caged animals, and screaming and throwing anything and everything they could at the approaching creatures. I could see two of the monsters had already been killed, but nearby I noticed the body of an elderly woman, and beside her, the body of a younger one.

My stomach churned; this was going to be a blood bath if we didn't do something soon. There weren't many of the monsters down here, which was a good sign, but still dangerous for us. From what I could see as we had run into the "clearing", there were four in here, advancing on the others, the two following behind Bera, Éowyn, and I, and I saw one more coming in from across the chamber, one of them clutching a young girl by her hair, and brandishing her body like a weapon. She was screaming so loudly.

That made seven in total – oops make that six. I saw one go down with an arrow in its chest, as a young woman with pale blonde lowered her bow. Beside me, I felt Éowyn shift, before taking off at a run towards them, her sword held high, and with ta cry of, "For Rohan!" She was upon them.

I think it actually surprised the monsters when Éowyn attacked. They probably hadn't expected us to have weapons, let alone know how to use them. All at once, other women who held weapons started forward, including Bera. The girl stopped short a few feet away, and threw her dagger, much like Éowyn had. While it didn't kill the orc she was aiming at, it did imbed itself in its arm. It shrieked, and rounded on Bera, baring its black teeth.

"Maggoty little wench," is voice was ten times worse than its face, if that was even possible. "I'll feast upon your flesh!" It began to run towards Bera and I, and Bera began to backtrack towards me.

Everything happened very quickly, and yet it felt like I was moving underwater, my limbs felt so sluggish. Bera was stumbling backwards towards me, and as she was I thought I heard a distant sound of the voices of men above us, but I couldn't be certain if my ears weren't making me hear things, given how terrified I was. I didn't even realize I was raising the bow until I had notched the arrow and was aiming for the orc. I had forgotten how difficult it was so pull back an arrow in a bow; my almost certainly bloody fingers would cause me to suffer later, I was sure of it.

I pulled back the arrow was tightly as I could in the bow, and let it fly without even a second thought. To my amazement, and let me stress that, because there is no way in Hell I'll ever be able to do it again, the arrow actually hit my target.

Right in the face.

Blood spurted everywhere, and I actually screamed when it did. The orc made this awful gasping, and choking sound, as blood poured from its mouth, where the arrow had lodged itself. It gurgled a few times, grabbing blindly at its throat, before collapsing on the ground, dead.

No sooner had it done so, did I drop the bow. I stared at the dead thing; the thing _I_ had killed. I had taken something's life that wasn't a spider or a bug. I also felt weirdly good about it, albeit I also wanted to either faint or throw up. Again, I stress that that was most likely a onetime thing, and I will never again have such fluke aim. That was fluke, not luck. Also, bows were hard to use. Bera whirled to face me, a huge grin on her face. I felt my own face curve in a smile as she did, though I'm certain it looked sickly or pained as all hell.

Suddenly the girl's face paled to the colour of fresh snow, and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Behind me, I heard something move. As I began to turn, I heard Bera scream from behind me now.

"Kayla, _look out!_ "

I felt something slam into me, and I hadn't even realized she had begun to run towards me as she had cried out. All I had seen was the two orcs that had been following us out of the cave, and the one with the bow aiming straight at me. Just as it had let the arrow fly, I had felt something hard knock me off my feet, and I was falling. My body slammed into the ground, and I felt my left arm make contact with stone, and a searing pain shot straight up to my shoulder as I did. The pain was so great I couldn't even scream.

I lay there gasping, as I struggled to raise my head. _Fuck, fuck, FUCK_ , my arm hurt! I managed to open my eyes against the pain, but they were watering like crazy. I was dimly aware of the sounds of battle still going on around me, as I tried to turn my head. I saw the orc who had tried to shoot me suddenly go down, and arrow protruding from it, and I saw the same woman who had shot the orc from earlier race by, along with another middle aged woman, to deal with the other one. The gurgle I heard suggested that the two women had won.

By now the shock had lessened, but the pain hadn't. I managed to sit up, cradling what I was almost one hundred percent sure was a broken wrist in my good arm, and look around. Two of the creatures were still alive, and I saw a few more bodies of the innocent nearby. I kept my eyes on the ground so I wouldn't vomit. The sight of the bodies made me want to scream. Instead, I looked towards where the two orcs had just come running out, trying to focus on something else while my head swam with pain.

What my eyes came to rest on made me want to vomit, scream, swear, and die.

It was Bera – except it couldn't be. The Bera I knew was alive, and moving, and proper and ridiculing of my behavior sometimes. The Bera I knew was loyal to Éowyn. The Bera I knew wasn't covered in her own blood, and laying on the floor of the chamber, with an arrow sticking out of her chest.

All the sound seemed to leave the world. I struggled to get to my feet, and it was hard seeing as only one of my arms was working. I managed to hobble over to her, praying with all of my heart and soul that my mind was just playing tricks on me from being in pain. That, at many moment, she would open her eyes, and the arrow would just fall away, or it would have missed a major part of her body, as Boromir's had, and she would be alright.

"Bera?" I whispered, and my legs gave out, as I fell to my knees beside her. My fingers were as white at her face as I slowly reached out, shaking all over, to touch her face gently. There were flecks of blood on her cheeks, and I wiped them away as best I could. "Bera?" I repeated, my voice sounding so small, and so young.

She stirred suddenly, and my heart leapt up in to my throat. When she opened her eyes, I saw they were cloudy with something, and I felt my chest constrict. "Kayla?" She whispered, and I saw blood was covering her teeth. I reached for her hand, taking it in mine – it was so cold, and felt so small. Her eyes widened once more, as they had the last time she had looked at me, before pushing me out of the way, and sacrificing herself. "Kayla?" She sounded so scared. The hand in mine went limp suddenly, and I saw whatever had been clouding her eyes suddenly vanished, and her lips parted slightly, as though she were about to take a breath.

Except she didn't.

My whole body felt like it was trapped in an earthquake. I was dimly aware that the sounds of battle had dissipated behind us. All I was able to do was sit there with her, holding her hand, even though it felt like lead, and was as cold as snow in mine, which felt like magma. It angered me; why did my skin feel like fire when hers felt like ice?

I squeezed her hand once more. "Bera?" I whispered, my voice breaking horribly. "Bera?"

* * *

I don't know how long I sat with Bera. Minutes, maybe hours, maybe even days. All I knew was that, when the time did come that I had to move, it felt like I hadn't in an age. All I could do was stare down at her face – so pale and calm. Her eyes were still open, and I couldn't' stop staring at them. They looked so betrayed, so confused. She hadn't understood why she had died. I didn't understand why she had died. I didn't understand why she had pushed me. Why had she -

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I started, turning around. I found Éowyn standing behind me, and I saw tears swam in her eyes. I felt my heart break further. "Éowyn?" I managed to utter.

She White Lady of Rohan looked passed me, and down at her handmaiden, whose hand I still gripped like a lifeline. Finally, after a moment of silence, she spoke. "It is over, Kayla."

I felt numb – all the sounds around me seemed to take an eternity to actually make it to my ears. "What do you mean?"

I saw the ghost of a smile pass along her face. "There has been word from the surface," she paused, looking down at Bera again. "We have won."

She didn't let me say much else. It took some effort from a few other people down there with us, one of them actually being Aedre, but eventually I had my fingers pried away from Bera's hand, and I was led to one of the carts that would lead us back to the surface. It appeared that, despite a few of us fighting, I had been one of the only ones to sustain any injuries. Aedre would spend the entire ride back to Helm's Deep bandaging my arm, and telling me it only looked like a sprain, rather than anything broken. She said I was lucky. She said it could have been worse.

The dead were piled into another cart. Out of the dozens of us who had entered into the caves, only eight had been killed. Most of them had been elderly, but there were a few young women and, of course, Bera. No children had been slain, something Aedre told me was also lucky, but I barely paid attention. The cart with the dead went last as we made our way to the surface. It took a good half an hour before we finally broke into the sunlight. Sunlight; so the battle had lasted all night. I shielded my eyes against the blast, trying to see what the aftermath looked like. Once my eyes had adjusted, I could see how everything looked.

There were bodies _everywhere_.

Men, elves, orcs, and Uruk-hai. Bodies littered the ground, and the smell of death was everywhere. There was also a clean smell, as well. It appeared that it had rained during the battle, which left a smoky, rain scent in the air, a stark contrast to all the carnage around us. As we approached Helm's Deep again (the caves were slightly away from the actual Keep), I noticed a group of elves standing on the battlements. These must have been the ones that Aragorn had mentioned. As we passed by, I heard them speaking to one another in Elvish, a language I didn't understand. Just as we were entering into the Keep, I saw another elf walk up, clad in golden armor, and his white-blonde gleaming in the early morning sun. The elves greeted him in Elvish, but it was the one word that caused my heart to skip a beat.

"Haldir," said one.

 _Haldir_.

Oh my God.

He had survived.

But why? Why had he survived? What had changed? We had still won the battle, and yet Haldir was still alive? What the fuck –

The wagon stopped, and those who could walk were ushered off. I stepped off, doing my best to avoid looking at the cart with the dead in it. I could feel my body wanting to start sobbing, but I knew that now was not the time to have a full-fledged break down. The first thing I had to do was see if anyone else I knew had died or see if any of them were severely injured. I knew that, if I was going to survive this, I had to distract myself.

I hurried up the steps and into Helm's Deep, wondering where the surviving soldiers had gathered. As I ascended the stairs, I noticed a large cluster had gathered by the steps that led up to the hall where Théoden typically was.

I saw Legolas and Gimli first. Despite all that had happened, I felt a rush of relief pass through me, and I hurried passed the other soldiers and citizens who were mingling, tending to wounds, and returning, to greet them.

As I hurried up to them, I felt so many different emotions running through me: grief, anger, relief, joy, and also a slight numbness. I was glad they were alright, but still positively traumatized over Bera. I didn't know what the appropriate response would be upon seeing my friends alive, so I just went with what felt right. I was a clusterfuck of emotion right now, and I didn't give a single flying fuck how it made me look. I went with my gut, which said "take joy when you can; you're hurting, so take joy if it is given to you".

I nearly knocked Gimli over when I hugged him, his face getting jammed into my bruised abdomen, which almost winded me. When I pulled back, I turned to Legolas, and gently placed my good hand on his arm, and the elf gave me a small smile. Both look tired and a little worse for wear, but otherwise unscathed.

I regarded them both, my face forming a tired, and somewhat pained, smile. "I'm so glad you're both alright," I meant it, too. I had known these people for over a month now and, though we didn't spend much time together, I really did care about their well-being, and see them as friends; friends who I was glad were still alive.

Gimli gave me a toothy grin, "Aye, lass, as are we." He threw Legolas a look, "We showed the dark beasties what happened when you cross paths with a dwarf and an elf!" Legolas gave his friend a wry smile as the dwarf clapped a hand on his arm. I looked between them, trying to keep my smile fixed, but my mind was elsewhere. It kept drifting back to Bera, and my lower lip trembled when it did, but I had to keep it together. First things first: find out who's dead, if anyone else is. Mourning comes after. I _had_ to be strong. My anxiety wanted otherwise but, for once, I shoved it face first into the dirt under my shoes.

Was everyone else alright? I craned my neck to try and see anyone else, but my efforts were in vain. I felt a knot of dread begin to develop, and the threat of agonized tears was beginning to come back. Where were they?

Almost as soon as I thought this, I saw Aragorn and Théoden appear through the gates, both looking no better off than Legolas and Gimli, but also showing no signs of any major damage. They ascended the stairs to where we were, and Aragorn and Legolas grasped each other's shoulders as a greeting, before saying something in Elvish to one another. They then all (Gimli included) began to ascend the steps to the top of the Keep. Aragorn caught my eye as they passed us, and we exchanged a brief look. I couldn't bring myself to ask him what I was thinking now, having seen almost everyone, but I think he could tell. I saw a small smile pass across his face, and he glanced back slightly behind him, and I followed his gaze. I felt my heart beat loudly, just once. The final group from the battle was returning through the wreckage of Helm's Deep. Leading them was Gandalf, followed by Éomer, Éowyn's brother, and his Rohirrim, and beside them...

I felt relief hit me like a tidal wave; I felt momentarily dizzy. Thank _God_.

Boromir looked a little banged up, and he was limping slightly, possibly from his still healing ribs, but otherwise he was very much alive. When he saw me standing at the top of the stairs, his own face formed a tired smile, and he made his way up towards me, followed by Gandalf and Éomer, who were no doubt heading for the top to meet with Théoden, as well. I approached him, keeping my movements calm and collected, even though I was sure that now, at any moment, I would break down – but from grief or joy, I did now know.

"You're alive," I said, and my voice sounded so weak. I found my good hand reaching toward him, and it gripped his arm, almost for dear life.

Boromir let out a tired chuckle at my words, and possibly my reaction. "I said I would return, Lady Kayla, and I have." There was a pause, and I found myself at a loss for words. I let go of his arm, and looked down at my feet. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I didn't know what I wanted to say, or what I should say. After a moment of neither of us saying anything, he spoke again. "Your arm," he said lamely, gesturing to my sling.

I glanced down, and back up at him. "Oh, that's nothing, I just fell on it. I think it's sprained." I felt stab of pain shoot through me, but it wasn't from my arm. It was how I had gotten the injury that caused me pain now. Bera…

Boromir seemed to sense my apparent distress, but he also looked a little rushed. "Are you alright, other than your arm?"

I wanted to start crying right then. I wanted to fling myself into his arms and sob. Hell, I would fling myself into Théoden's arms at this point if someone would just hold me and tell me that it was all going to be okay. I wanted to break down, and scream, and swear, and blame someone, _anyone_.

But I didn't.

I wasn't the only one who had seen death today. Sure, it was my first time seeing death like _that_ , and I was pretty sure that the people here had seen death many times over, but today we were all one in the same. We had all suffered, fought, and seen darkness approaching. I couldn't let myself break down now. There would be time to discuss it all later. For now, I had to be strong.

For Bera.

I forced myself to remain calm, "I'm fine." I said, my voice a little more shaky than I intended. When he raised a brow, I added, "So, we won. What happens now? You all look rushed."

Boromir looked so tired – but I was still relishing in how alive he also looked; how alive they all looked. "We may have won the battle this day, but there is still something left to be done." His grey eyes were steely, and I felt a tug of worry.

"What do you mean?" I asked, though I felt I knew what he was going to say.

He looked passed me, towards the Keep, where the others were gathering. He turned his gaze back down to me once more, before he spoke. "We ride for Isengard within the hour; we take the fight to Saruman."

* * *

 **A/N:** **That took a lot longer than I care to admit. My hands hurt. I also may have teared up while writing Bera's death. I wanted there to be a bit more, "Take care of Éowyn, you are my friend, blah, blah, blah", but I felt it would add to the pain, and character development for Kayla if Bera just died. I am a terrible person; I'm sorry (not really). I hope you all enjoyed my attempt at action! The next chapter will tie up loose ends in the (what I feel) may have been a rushed ending to this chapter. Mostly because I am emotionally compromised at the murder of my own character. Either way, R &R, and I hope you all enjoyed this!**


	14. The Calm before the Typhoon

**A/N:** **Hey, all! Sorry for the delayed update. I started a new "I am going to design tattoos" campaign, and it took off a lot quicker than I thought it would! Also, what is a day off? I don't know. I am working a lot, both actually at my job, and outside of it on freelance work. So, I haven't really had any time to write. This one may be a lot shorter than the others, considering this is a huge filler chapter, more so than actual plot, so I apologize if the wait for this chapter is a little lackluster. Anyway, here it is, however! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Fourteen:**

 **The Calm before the Typhoon**

* * *

It was tense. The battle was a day over, and it was still tense. Why was it still tense? It felt like there was this cloud that was both figuratively and literally hovering over us all at Helm's Deep in the aftermath of the battle.

The others had left for Isengard almost two hours earlier, and I was left to reign in the remaining survivors and citizens of Rohan together alongside Éowyn in order to prepare for the journey back to Edoras. It would be at least another full day before we could set out, and another one or two days before we returned to Edoras, considering we were now carrying more supplies, and the injured along with us.

I tried not to think about how the others were doing – Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Théoden, Gandalf, Éomer and Boromir had all left to seek out Saruman. I supposed they had figured that, with the battle being won by our side, Saruman's numbers had diminished enough that they would easily capture the White Wizard and interrogate him without any major struggle. I hoped they were right, and that everything would go smoothly when they reached the tower.

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours, and I was still reeling from the death of Bera. I was amazed that, given she had only passed not hours before, I was even able to function, let alone help people clean up the Keep and tend to the wounded. I deliberately avoided the cart filled with the dead, so I wouldn't have to look at her, the blood from the fatal arrow wound she had sustained still congealing on her front, and the rest having turned into a dried, coppery mess on the rest of her dress. Captain Hàma was also among the dead, his lifeless body lying near Bera's, a fatal axe wound slowly coagulating on his stomach. It made me sick to my soul that these two kind people had perished. Bera had been my friend, and Hàma had shown me kindness. They didn't deserve this.

I will admit, after everyone had left for Isengard, I had closed myself off in the room I had been in not one day before, working away with Bera, and cried myself sick. I had cried so hard, and for so long, that was I immensely dehydrated after, and felt like throwing up again. My nose had run, and I was certain my eyes were completely blood shot. I cried for Bera, and for the others who had died during this battle. I cried for the elves who had selflessly come to our aid at the last minute. I cried for my family, how they were, and if I would ever see them again. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I probably looked so incredibly haggard – so much so that I had stayed in that room for a good hour until I had completely calmed down. I didn't want anyone seeing me like this, let alone asking me questions about how I was, or if I needed anything. These people needed me more than I needed comfort right now. I would collect my thoughts more when we got back to Edoras.

I knew the others would be back soon, and we wanted to be ready to return back to Edoras when they arrived – with or without Merry and Pippin, who I hoped had survived the battle at Isengard. I hadn't even really given those two much thought until now. The last two months had been a whirlwind and a half, and I had been so focused on staying alive and helping take care of things in Edoras that I hadn't had much time to think about any of the Hobbits. My anxieties and stresses had been put upon the remaining members of the Fellowship, namely Boromir since he had been so gravely injured for a good chunk of my time here.

Now that I had a moment to stop and think about the Hobbits, I felt a panic rise in my throat. All at once, I felt the same fears and skin shivering thoughts I had had when I had wondered what would have happened if Aragorn had died, or letting Boromir live had screwed something up? What if now, because I had done my fair share of meddling, the Hobbits had died? I knew that Aragorn had found traces of the Hobbits when they had entered into Fangorn Forest, but after that there had been no mention of them. This left the possibility of them having been killed during the battle for Isengard open to debate, and it made me feel, surprise, surprise, sick to my stomach with both guilt and worry.

I tried to put it out of my mind as I spent the next hour or so working away on cleaning up Helm's Deep along with the others, as we prepared to set out. I knew Théoden and the rest would be back at any moment, and I wanted to be able to speak with Boromir or Aragorn about what the next stage was when they got back.

What was going to happen to me now, anyway? Would I go back to Edoras with them, or would I try and see if I couldn't head out for Gondor once we were ready to depart? I hadn't really given it much thought since coming to Helm's Deep, and now that there was a bit of downtime, I had a moment to stop and think. I mean, _really_ think about it. Was I even ready to say goodbye to everyone yet? Was I even ready to go out on my _own_? The thought of trying to navigate my way around Middle Earth to a play I had never been before, but knew all the stories about, made my head spin. Sure, I wanted to try and figure how to get home as soon as I could, and these last two months had been riddled with so much going on that I had had no time to actually try and figure out how to help myself. Now I had a real shot at actually getting home – or, at least finding out how I had gotten here in the first place. Maybe.

I was carrying a basket or dirty bandages, with my good arm, to be thrown in the back of a wagon, when I spotted Haldir again. He was standing above me at the top of some stairs, speaking with a group of elves, and a few of Théoden's soldiers, and Éomer's Rohirrim. Now that I was closer to him, I could make his features a bit more. He was pale and golden-blonde haired, like Legolas, and his skin was just as smooth and perfect as any other elf I'd seen. His face wasn't as chiselled as Legolas's was, in fact it had a certain roundness to it, but he wasn't unattractive by any means. I noted that his right arm was bandaged up to the elbow, and there were a few nicks on his cheeks, and one on his forehead that looked particularly bad, as though he had been hit over the head with something, like the handle of a sword.

I watched him for a moment longer, before quickly dropping my gaze when he turned to ascend the stairs. He passed by me, speaking in rapid, low Elvish to his kin, and they brushed by, disappearing down the stone path behind me, and out of sight. My eyebrows knitted together, and I wondered again how the elf had survived. After all, he had died in the films, but not in the books, and I was curious as to how that had happened (him being alive now). So far, the world I was in seemed more almost "movie-verse" then "book-verse", with subtle hints of the latter here and there. Was the world I was in shifting more towards being like the books now? Jeez, as if I could use more confusion in my life as it was.

I decided to take a leap of faith and, as I deposited the dirty bandages in the back of the wagon, I moved to speak with an injured soldier, who was sitting nearby, waiting to leave for Edoras. He had a bandage covering his right eyes, and his left arm was in a sling, much like mine. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, and when I approached and he smiled at me, I noted that he was missing a tooth.

"Excuse me," I said gently, folding my hands in front of me to show respect. "I'm assuming you were in the battle last night, yes?" He let out a tired chuckle, and nodded once, causing me to feel colour rising in my cheeks out of embarrassment. "Ehem, yes, well, I was wondering something, if you have a moment?" Another nod; I pressed on. "It's just, I noticed that Marchwarden Haldir is still alive after the battle. How did that happen?"

The soldier raised an eyebrow, and I felt a momentary panic take me when he said, "That is an odd question to ask, lass. Why do you say so?"

I paled, and backtracked quickly, "It's just," I stammered, floundering for words. "I had heard that he had perished in the battle; that an orc had slain him – but I have just seen him now, alive and well. How can that be?"

The soldier's face softened, "I am certain many a rumor flies about those who perished and did not." He gave me his toothy grin, and I noticed that, where the tooth was missing, his gum was bloody. Oh God, had an orc punched out one of his teeth? "I did not see much; during the battle I fought on my own, and was not near the Lords Aragorn and Boromir, nor the Marchwarden." When I raised an eyebrow at his comment, he continued, "However, I did hear that, in a moment where the Marchwarden would have surely died, Lord Boromir saved him."

I felt my breath escape my body in a whoosh. "What?"

The soldier nodded, "That is what they are saying, Miss. Lord Boromir saved the Marchwarden's life. I heard him speaking of it with his and King Théoden's soldiers earlier. He said that there had been a moment where he was certain he would have perished, but Lord Boromir came and cleaved the beast down that would have surely taken his life." He let out a tired chuckle, "I have never heard an elf sound so grateful in all my years." He looked back up at me, his same toothy smile on his face. "I am glad it is over."

I nodded, unable to form any real words other than: "Yes, me too; thank you!" Before I hurried away. I ran back to where I had worked with Bera not a day before, and closed myself in the quiet of the room, hearing only the distant sounds of the hustle and bustle of people packing away from me. I took a breath in.

Boromir had saved Haldir.

Haldir was alive because of _Boromir_.

For the first time since I had come here, and with all the things I had changed in doing so, I finally felt that all I had done had been for something worth waiting for. I sat down on the floor, letting relief wash through me. I finally felt that I had actually done something good. Yes, I had let Boromir live, and that in and of itself had perhaps not been the smartest thing in the world to do, but because I had done it, Haldir was alive, and _because of Boromir_ at that! Maybe thing would work out for the better now that this had happened. Maybe everything in Gondor wouldn't go so horribly to shit because Boromir was alive – maybe Denethor wouldn't do anything stupid – hell – maybe Faramir wouldn't even almost die!

I leaned by head back on the stone wall behind me, and for the first time in two months, I felt calm. Completely, and utterly, calm. Yes, Bera's death still hurt like hell, and I knew it would for a while. Yes, I still missed my family like crazy, and yes I was still anxious to get home, and figure out why I was here at all. But, for the first time, I felt like I had done something good for these people – for Haldir and Boromir. Had I not saved Boromir, he would have not been here to save Haldir, and Haldir would've surely died in the battle. Well, maybe, considering it was movie-cannon, and not book-cannon. Either way, he was alive now, and I could pat myself on the back for that one.

I suddenly heard the sound of horns in the distance, and I knew what that meant. The others had come back! I leapt to my feet, dusted off my dress, and raced out of the tiny room, back down the steps, and towards the gates of Helm's Deep. Sure enough, as I approached, I saw that many people had gathered to welcome the return of King Théoden, Éomer, and the Fellowship. I squinted to see over people's heads, as the gates were opening, and they came trotting back in on their horses. Théoden was at the lead with Gandalf, followed by Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, and they were flanked by Éomer and Boromir. As I strained my gaze a little harder, I could just make out two small shapes atop Boromir's horse, and as they came into view, I felt myself let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Thank, _God_.

Merry and Pippin were sitting in front of Boromir on his horse, and his had the arm not holding the reins of his horse wrapped protectively around the two Hobbits. They were looking at their surroundings like two little, wide-eyed children. They were whispering to each other, and pointing at various things as the group rode up, and began to dismount. Théoden immediately motioned for Éomer and Aragorn to follow him. They complied, and they ascended the stone steps, stopping to turn to face the remaining people of Rohan. As they did, the King addressed them.

"I bring happy tidings from Isengard," he began, his voice ringing in throughout Helm's Deep. "The battle has been won." There was a cheer that rose up, but Théoden raised a hand to quiet his people. Upon having silence, he continued. "The battle was won by the strength and will of the Ents of Fangorn Forest." There was a murmur of confusion throughout the keep as he said this.

A woman next to me whispered, "An Ent? What is that?" She said it to the woman next to her, who shrugged, so I answered her.

"It's a tree person," I hissed, and when she threw me a look of even more confusion, I pressed a finger to my lips, indicating I wanted to listen to Théoden speak.

"In their strength," The King of Rohan was saying, "they overthrew Saruman's dark army, and vanquished them back into the pits from whence they came." Another cheer rose, and Théoden took a moment to smile, before motioning for silence again. "In our approach upon Saruman himself, the White Wizard met his end at the hands of Grima Wormtongue."

A stunned silence followed that statement, and a hush fell over the people of Rohan. Grima Wormtongue had left Edoras a traitor, and a coward. He had been responsible for the people of Rohan being ambushed by the armies of orcs, and had nearly caused Théoden to meet his demise. Now, weeks later, it was revealed that it had been none other than Wormtongue himself who had put an end to the reign of terror Saruman had unleashed upon the people of Middle Earth. This man, this _snake_ , had turned around and saved his people from what surely could have been a fate worse than death itself.

"What happened to him?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The crowd turned to look at me, and I felt myself deflate a little out of embarrassment. I looked back up at Théoden, and I saw there was a grim look on his face. Aragorn had the same look, but I saw him give me a small nod as our gazes met. I threw him a half smile, and returned my gaze to Théoden.

The King looked so tired. "He is dead." I felt a pang of sadness. So Grima had still died, despite redeeming himself in the eyes of his King. I began to nod as though I understood, when Théoden added something that made my heart constrict in my chest. "He fatally wounded Saruman, and when the body of the White Wizard fell from the Tower of Isengard, Grima threw himself from the tower, as well."

My hand flew to my mouth, and I stared in horror up at the Théoden. Grima had committed suicide? But, why?

"He could not bear the guilt of what he had brought upon his people," Théoden, as though reading my thoughts, addressed the people of Rohan as a whole again, leaving me to just stand there in shock for a few moments. "He lived as a twisted, lost man, but he died as a hero, and we shall remember him as such. He has proven his worth, in the end." There was a murmur of agreement, and some discontent amongst those standing around me, before Théoden said his final words.

"We will depart for Edoras within two hours' time. Be ready to leave when I give the signal. We will be home in the coming days." He then turned away, and swept up another flight of stairs, followed by Éomer, Gandalf, and Aragorn, and out of sight.

The crowd dispersed, and people began to gather their things together in preparation to leave. I stood there for a few moments, my mind reeling with what I had just learned. _Poor Grima_ , I thought sadly, _How far gone did he think he was to warrant doing something like this?_ I was pulled out of my depressing reverie when I was approached by none other than Boromir, with the two small shapes of Merry and Pippin behind him.

"Kayla," he greeted me, his grey eyes warmer than usual. I could almost feel the happiness radiating from him at the return of his little friends. "How are you?"

I managed a weak smile, gesturing absently to my arm, "As good as I can be. I'm glad you all came back safely." I could feel the Hobbits watching me from below waist-level.

Boromir's eyes crinkled at the edges with a happiness I had not seen in him since meeting him. He motioned behind him, turning his head to speak with Merry and Pippin. "This is Kayla, the girl who helped save my life after you were taken." Merry and Pippin came into view now.

They were so much smaller than I thought they would be. The tops of their heads barely came up past my waist, and their hair was curled so tightly it reminded me of sheep's wool, or the fur on a bichon frise puppy before you brushed it. Their feet were just as huge and hairy as I thought they would be, and they were, given their sizes, perfectly proportionate. They were really quite cute. Not that I would ever tell them that, since it would be horribly rude to say so. But hell, Hobbits are adorable. Boromir looked back at me, his smile still fixed on his face.

"Kayla, allow me to introduce Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took."

* * *

The trip back to Edoras took nearly twice as long as it had to get to Helm's Deep in the first place. Mostly because we were now carting several wagons full of dead bodies, as well as the injured and otherwise maimed.

I didn't say much during the return to anyone. My thoughts were mostly on the idea of Bera being put in the ground in an unmarked grave when we got back. Her body would be burned atop a large pyre with the other dead, and then their ashes would be placed in the ground near the tomb that housed Théodred. The thought that she would not be remembered, nor her body properly laid to rest made me very unhappy. I wondered vaguely if I shouldn't try and stop in Aldburg on my way to Minas Tirith to try and find her family – to let them know what had happened to her. It was the right thing to do. It gave me a small sense of comfort to know I could at least give her that.

We arrived back in Edoras on the morning of the third day of travel. I was tired, sore, and just wanted to sleep in my bed again. I tried not to think about how I would be returning to what had been Bera's room; the thought alone made me want to start sobbing again out of principal. It was hard to push all thoughts of her out of my mind as the wagon containing her body wheeled itself passed me, and towards the huge pyre at the base of the hill outside the gates of Edoras. They wanted to burn the bodies soon, as to prevent any further decay. Some of the corpses had already begun to appear bloated as the decaying process began.

It took about an hour for the citizens of Rohan to settle in upon our return to Edoras, and after everyone had pretty much recovered from returning to their home, they all filed out of the city again for the burning of the dead. As we all moved down the path to the pyre where Théoden stood with Éomer and Éowyn, I mused at how rank and class became obsolete when death was involved. We were all the same in death.

Théoden said a few words about honour, bravery, and innocence, before the bodies were piled one by one atop the pyre, and the fire was being prepared to be lit. I stood off to the side, watching it all as though I was submerged under water. My eyes were thick with tears, and I felt my lower lip begin to tremble when the body blocking Bera from my view was moved and placed on the pyre.

I could see her face now; Bera was lucky, her body was still mostly intact, despite her death having happened nearly four days beforehand. Her cheeks, normally thin and tan in colour, were slightly bloated, and her complexion was a paled grey-purple. Her eyes looked sunken, and the wound on her front was nearly dried out completely. Her eyes were closed, thank God, but her mouth was open slightly, her lips parted in what looked like a look of surprise, or shock.

I didn't realize I was moving until I was at her side next to the wagon, and the man taking the bodies was looking at me with a curious expression of surprise mixed with pity.

"Miss?" He said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

"Give me a moment," I mumbled, staring down at Bera. Her golden hair looked like straw now, and I could see the crease between her eyebrows that she always had was still there, as though she was confused still in death, or annoyed at something I had said or done while we had worked. She always was exasperated about something…

Something glittered in the grey light of the morning as I looked down at her. I noted a small pendant attached to a string around her neck. I noted absently that she had worn that necklace almost every day that I had seen her, though I had never thought to ask why she wore it so often. Perhaps it was a family heirloom? Maybe I should bring it back to her family if I passed through Aldburg? I gently reached down, and untied the necklace from around her neck. Her head lolled to the side briefly as I did, and I shrank back as my finger brushed her hardened, slightly bloated skin. After a moment of fumbling, I managed to get the necklace off, and I stepped back. I could feel the eyes of the citizens of Rohan upon me as I stood there, staring down at what had been one of my only true friends since arriving here.

I gently touched her face once and, despite feeling how _dead_ she felt, relishing in being able to physically feel that she had had life once.

"Goodbye, Bera, I'm so sorry." I whispered, and I felt tears spill over my eyes. I backed up quickly, nodding once to the man again, and he nodded back, his hazel eyes filled with empathy.

I returned to my place next to Aedre, who I had decided to stand with during the burning. The older woman put her arm around me, drawing me close to her in a side-hug. I wiped my eyes as she squeezed once, and released me. I threw her a weak smile, which she returned. We both turned as the smell of smoke filled the air. The man had placed a torch upon the pyre, well pyre. I should mention that there was more than one pyre, but I was only focusing on the pyre that Bera's body was on.

As each pyre burned, white and black smoke billowed upwards into the sky, and the air was filled with the smell of burning hair and flesh. Aedre took out a cloth and pressed it over her mouth and nose, trying to hide from the smell. My eyes began to water as both the smell and the smoke invaded my senses. Aedre offered me her cloth after a moment, but I politely shook my head. My eyes drifted to the crowd watching, and I saw the Fellowship across the pyre from me. They had their heads bowed, except Boromir, who glanced up as I looked over, and our eyes caught for a moment. He nodded, once, and I returned it mutely. We hadn't spoken much during the ride back to Edoras. He had been too happy about Merry and Pippin being alive, and I'm sure he could tell how broken up I was about Bera, so he hadn't talked to me much, and let me be. I was grateful to him for that.

My eyes were back on the pyre now. The smoke was turning grey now as it arced up into the sky. The sky was grey, as well, and storm clouds began to gather in the distance.

I blinked my eyes once, and a few tears fell like the rain in my heart.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I know that was much shorter than normal, but I wanted to cut it there. I feel this was a good place to end it, seeing as this was depressing as all hell, and this way I could segue into the next chapter more easily. I hope you all enjoyed the angst, and thanks for continuing to follow and fav my story!**


	15. We can Dance if We want to

**A/N:** **Hello, all! Again, apologies for the long time between updates. I have been very busy, and wanted to write more, but, alas, life (and computer problems [knock on wood]) have prevented me from updating as frequently as I would like. However, I have had time recently, so here is the latest update. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Fifteen:**

 **We can Dance if We want to**

* * *

The mourning period lasted about a week after the burning of the bodies. The people of Rohan wore black, or as dark of colours as they could, and the air was solemn. Éowyn opted from her usual brown or white dress, and instead wore a midnight black and silver trimmed dress each day for the entire week. She even offered one of the dresses to me, which I gratefully accepted. I wanted to be able to mourn Bera as best I could, and I felt that if I wore black, no matter how ill-fitting the dress was (Éowyn was almost a head taller than me; she was almost built like an elf, so the dress was a little big on me) I was at least contributing to it all. I still hoped to visit Aldburg soon, in order to pay my respects to her family, and tell them that their daughter died a heroine.

Despite the city still being in mourning over the losses at The Battle of Helm's Deep, I had heard from a local that Théoden was planning on an eve of celebration that evening. He had wanted to have a week of mourning following the battle, but wanted to end it with a celebration for the victory that was won, and for those who had lived, and died, for Rohan. While I knew that the party would be filled with joy and laughter, I planned on still wearing black, in memory of Bera, and those we had lost. I figured no one would mind, seeing as I was still pretty torn up about losing one of the only friends I had made here.

On a different note, my hair was now long enough that I could actually get in in a bun on the back of my bed. A messy as hell bun, mind you, but still a bun. I still had to braid my bangs when wearing my hair up, but at least the mess that was my naturally curly hair, could at least be somewhat tamed now. Aedre always squawked at me whenever I came by to visit and my hair was either down or not in a proper bun and off my face.

"Ye have such a lovely face, girl. Ye shouldn't hide it behind yer hair." She would then proceed to style my hair in my usual, semi neat bun, and stand back approvingly, admiring her handiwork, and every time, she would then proceed to tell me that I was old enough that I should be considering looking for a husband. This always made me laugh, seeing as women who were twenty-one from my world, would be considered extremely young to get married, whereas here, it was seen as the norm.

I always shrugged off her comments with a chorus of, "Thank you Aedre, but I am not looking to get married any time soon. I'll know it's right, when it's right," to which she would scoff and shake her head, but keep her silence. Today was no different.

I had come by to see if Aedre needed any help tending to the wounded soldiers and citizens of Rohan who had survived the battle. Despite the mourning period coming to a close later that evening, the aftermath of the battle was not going to end so easily. There were still wounds that was beginning to fester, and the day before I had heard the screaming of a man who I was pretty sure had had to have something amputated due to infection.

Today, however, Aedre didn't seem to need my help much. She had managed to do much of the dressing herself, and was busy cleaning some bloody bandages when I peaked in the door of the Healing House.

"Aedre?" I said, and the older woman turned to see me, and kind smile forming on her face. I felt my own mouth tug in a smile, something that still felt foreign to me since returning back to Edoras from the battlefield. Aedre had been like a mother to me this past week. Hell, she had been like one to me since meeting her, but this week it had been especially appreciated. She had caught me tearing up a couple of times while working, and had either given me a hug, or allowed me to leave and calm myself before returning. She knew I was hurting over Bera, and perhaps also being a little homesick, and she was extremely patient with me, something I valued greatly.

As soon as she saw me, the older woman approached me, and admired my neatly bunned hair. "I am glad ye are listening to me about yer hair, girl. You look much prettier like tha'." I tried not to roll my eyes out of exasperation and amusement at her comment. I mentally braced myself for the next remark, which was just expected at this point. "I don' suppose you've given any thought about finding a husband now, have ye?" I fixed her with a look, and she merely winked at me, before allowing me to step past her and further into the Healing House.

"Need any help today with anything?" I asked as I moved into the center of the room, looking up at the high, wooden beams that allowed the sunlight to filter through, casting a cool light onto the walls and floor. The fire was roaring as usual in the middle of the hearth, and the warmth brought me a little comfort.

"Not today, I am afraid," Aedre replied, passing me to return to her work on the soiled bandages. I hovered absently behind her for a moment, not sure of what I should do next. When she saw I was hovering, she smiled at me. "Ye don' need ta' stand there, girl. Go about your day, and try to enjoy it. The celebration of the lives we lost should begin at sundown." When she fixed me with a semi expectant look, I took that as my queue to leave. I bid her a quick farewell, and darted out of Healing House.

* * *

I stood in front of the somewhat dirty mirror in my room that I had once shared with Bera. It was eerily quiet, except for the dull flickering sound of the torches on the walls. The glow caused my skin to look like it was glowing, and I mused at how I was less pale than I had been since arriving in Middle Earth almost two and a half months prior. I hadn't spent much time outside, but my skin had definitely gotten a little more colour to it. Were I a video game character, my skin option would be the second from the palest, and my skin when I had arrived here would have been the palest one could have.

My body was also changing. I was standing naked in front of the mirror, examining myself before I put on my dress and descended to the throne room for the celebration. In the two and a half months that I had been here, I had lost what I would roughly say was almost fifteen to twenty pounds. I know that sounds like a lot in such a short amount of time, but to go from eating not-so-well back home, and exercising very little, to walking pretty much everywhere I went, and eating real, non-processed foods, it made a lot of sense. It's not like I ate like a savage back home, or laid around all day, but I was considerably more active now, and ate much better (and less) than I had back on Earth, and it was certainly starting to snow.

My waist was a little smaller now, and it showed when I put on the first dress I had had upon arriving in Edoras. It had been a bit snug when I had first put it on, but now it slid right over my hips, waist, and bust without any effort. My legs were more toned now, as well, and my arms, despite not being toned since I hadn't done much lifting, were thinner now too. I had always had a somewhat round face, but even that was looking a little thinner. I would not say I had always dreamed of being skinny; I had always wanted to be healthy, and I had liked the fact that I had been a little curvy, but these changes made me feel healthier, and that made me glad, at the very least.

My hair was changing too, as I had mentioned before. Not only was it getting longer, but it was also getting lighter. My had dyed my hair darker not long before I had come to Middle Earth, and now my roots were really starting to show. My hair is naturally lighter than the dye I had used, but the transition was glaringly obvious. I couldn't imagine the kind of questions I'd have gotten from The Fellowship had I had bright blue hair upon meeting them, and it had faded to yellow or something. Ugh.

I felt different emotionally, too. It had been two and half months since I had been able to use my phone, my laptop, my hair straightener, or seen anything from my home other than my toiletry kit. I had almost run out of toothpaste, even though I had been careful to try and conserve it as best as I could. My deodorant was almost out, too, but Aedre had given me something to use instead. It was like a type of oil, and it soaked into my skin, making me smell slightly like roses. I had no idea how she had gotten the stuff, but I was very grateful. Being here, I had discovered that there were a lot of things similar to what I had used back home. For example, after brushing my teeth one night without toothpaste, I had chewed on a piece of mint leaf, and the result had been similar to if I had sued toothpaste. I had only done it to see if I could get away without using toothpaste when it ran out, and I determined that I probably could survive.

It wasn't just that, though. Having not spoken to anyone I knew for over two months, having not used technology in over two months, it really changed a person. I was no longer feeling as insecure as I had been when I had first woken up here; there was no one to judge what I wore, what I had done that day, and who I hung out with. There were no "Likes" on my posts about how I had survived Helm's Deep, and no friend requests from The Fellowship, or Selfies taken with the King of Rohan just to prove that I had met him. I wasn't waiting for a text to tell me the party was starting in the Throne Room, or posting my ideas about what to wear to Facebook or Instagram. I wasn't being messaged by friends wondering if I was okay because I hadn't logged on anything in a while. I wasn't living for anyone but myself. I wasn't putting through a technological filter every second of every day before doing anything.

I was just _being_.

And it felt amazing.

Yes, I missed my family horribly, and I wondered every day if I would ever see them again, or if they even knew I was missing. Had time passed at home? Were there News Broadcasts being made that a young, White woman was missing? Were my "friends" secretly glad that they didn't have to deal with me anymore? I wondered these things, but, amazingly, they didn't control my thoughts as they had when I had first come here. It was strangely liberating, and also terrifying. Yes, I still had my anxieties, and no amount of time without technology would fix that immediately. But, the people here were _real_. They had no hidden motives when they complimented each other. If two people were married, they were loyal to each other, since neither had Social Media to turn to, to get an ego boost if they fought. The love here was genuine, the actions were genuine, and even the hate was genuine. If someone hated, they would either try to kill or maim you, not go behind your back and say you slept with the whole jousting team, or anything like that.

A resounding horn blast drew me back to reality. I knew it was time to get ready and go to the celebration. I quickly pulled my black, silver trimmed dress over my head, careful not to mess up the bun I had managed to get my hair into. I put a small amount of rouge on my lips, and then hurried out of the room, down the hall, and into the throne room where the majority of Edoras had gathered for the celebration. I spotted Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Boromir standing near the front of the gathering, and moved to stand with them. Aragorn gave me a nod as I approached, and I smiled slightly.

The hall had been filled with long, wooden tables, and everyone was standing next to their benches, awaiting the arrival of King Théoden. Torches blazed, and I could smell the distinct scent of roast beef and pork, as well as the hoppy smell of mead and spices. There were mugs on each of the tables, enough to allow each person their own, and they were filled to the brim with mead. Suddenly, the doors to the throne room opened, and Théoden entered, flanked by Éomer and Éowyn. Éowyn looked beautiful in her white, silver trimmed dress, and her golden hair tied neatly at the nape of her neck. Éomer looked regal in a burgundy and brown tunic, trimmed with gold, as did his uncle, King Théoden, who wore his heavy crown upon his head.

They moved silently through the throne room, until they had reached the throne itself and, picking up their own mugs of mead, turned to face their audience, and their people. A hush fell over the populace of Edoras, as we all watched its rulers expectantly. Théoden slowly raised his mug, regarding his people with steely resolve.

"Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood defending their country." His voice rang throughout the hall, and sent chills up my spine. He raised his mug higher, "Hail the victorious dead!"

There was a resounding chorus of, "Hail!" As the people of Edoras raised their own mugs. I looked down at my own mug, frothing with mead, thought of Bera, and forced myself to raise it.

* * *

The throne room was, by my standards, in utter chaos. Music was playing from a few men on what I thought looked like fiddles, and perhaps a lute, and people was running around, dancing, and drinking. The smell of food, alcohol, and sweat filled the air, and yet it was strangely comforting. This was the first time since I had come to Middle Earth, that there was a real sense of happiness in the air, even if I wasn't much of a partier myself.

Gimli and Legolas were having a drinking contest, and I was pretty sure Legolas was going to win, judging by the fact that Gimli looked like he was going to throw up, or pass out. Merry and Pippin were dancing on a table to the cheers of the Rohan men around them, and Aragorn was speaking with Éowyn. I was standing off to the side/back of the throne room, as to avoid any of the commotion, when I realized that there was someone who I couldn't see anywhere…

"Lady Kayla," said a voice, and I jumped. I turned to find Boromir standing beside me. I put a hand over my heart, feigning a heart attack, and he chuckled lightly.

" _Lord_ Boromir," I replied, putting emphasis on the "Lord" part, and fixing him with a look.

His mouth curbed in a smirk, "You look beautiful this evening."

I felt my cheeks explode with heat. I nervously tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I don't take compliments well. "Thank you," I cleared my throat, "You look very well put together yourself." He chuckled again, and I quickly looked away, trying to think of something to say to ease the awkwardness. "This party must be nothing compared to what you're used to, huh?" I glanced back at him, peeking from under my hair.

Boromir wasn't looking at me, but there was a faint smile on his face. "Indeed. The celebrations in Minas Tirith are far more –" he was cut off as a man and woman, obviously drunk, came stumbling past, arm and arm, and laughing. He watched them go, before looking at me out of the corner of his eye, his mouth twitching. "Organized." He finished, and we both laughed.

"Well, I hope I can see it one day," I said wistfully, and shot him a grin, to which he responded in kind.

"If we are to win this war, than I am certain you will." We lapsed back into silence again after that.

The music began to pick up, and a few couples began to dance. Merry and Pippin were still going nuts on the table, and Gimli had finally passed out from too much alcohol consumption. I noted that Théoden was now speaking with Aragorn, and wondered vaguely what they were talking about. My mind didn't have long to wonder this, however, when Boromir got my attention again.

"Would you care to dance, Kayla?" He asked, his tone amused when I paled in surprise. I can't dance to save my life, and I didn't know how to respond.

"I, ah, I can't dance." I mumbled, looking at my feet in embarrassment. Boromir chuckled, extending a hand nonetheless.

"Come, let us honour our fallen comrades by enjoying ourselves." At this comment, I fixed him with a look, and he added. "We are allowed to grieve, Kayla, but no amount of grief will bring them back."

His words hit a sensitive spot in my heart, and I had to bite back a response, before nodding slowly. "Alright, but just one. Your feet will thank me, I promise."

The music was slow and even, which gave us time to talk while we danced. I mentally thanked my lucky stars that Boromir was brought up as a proper Lord, since he knew exactly how to lead, dance, and the whole bit, whereas I kept nearly stumbling over my own feet. Christ, I was such a flail. He carefully led us, and I didn't protest; it made me look a little less terrible, anyway.

"Do you still wish to travel to Gondor?" Boromir asked as we danced.

I chewed my lower lip. "Yes, but I don't knew when I would be able to, or how dangerous it would be for me to go alone. I don't know when would be the best time to."

Boromir looked thoughtful. "I must return to Minas Tirith soon to speak with my father of the coming days. Perhaps I could depart within a week from today, and you could accompany me?"

I looked up at him, my spirits soaring for a moment. "You'd really do that? Let me come with you? Aren't you worried I'd slow you down, or get in the way?"

Boromir gave me a "Kayla don't be stupid" look, and I blushed, to which he laughed. "No, I do not believe you would slow my progress. You wish to travel to Minas Tirith, and I wish to return home, the answer is a simple one, Kayla."

I looked down at our feet moving in time with the music, and suddenly felt very shy, but I couldn't place the reason. I looked back up at him, hoping my face looked as earnest as I felt. "Thank you, Boromir. I mean it." He shook his head, and I took that to mean it was nothing. I smiled a little wider. "Alright, a week then?"

We turned sharply as the music changed tempo suddenly, and I felt my skirts _whoosh_ around me. "A week," Boromir replied, as the music ended abruptly, and the surrounding people applauded. We stopped dancing, and joined in the applause.

* * *

I was awoken by the sound of yelling. My eyes flew open, and I saw bolt upright, looking around my dark room in terror. What the hell was that? I had no idea what time it was. I had gone to bed hours after the sun had set, and judging by how dark it still was outside, I could guess it was still the middle of the night. I squinted in the darkness, struggling to find the torch I could light with the embers of the dying fire. I managed to grasp it, throw it in to the fire place, light a dull torch, wrap my blanket around me, and hurry out of my room.

I peeked into the hall, didn't see anything, and darted down to the source of the yelling and commotion. As I was racing down the hall, a door opened, and Boromir came rushing out, looking panicked.

"Boromir!" I yelped, seeing him, "What's going on?" He looked terrified.

"Pippin," was all he said, before hurrying past me and down the hall, out of sight.

I felt my blood run cold, I'd forgotten about this part. I hurried towards the open door, and looked in. I saw the Fellowship, as well as Théoden and Éomer surrounding what looked like the body of a child. My heart almost stopped when the body began to twitch, and I realized it was Pippin. Gandalf was kneeling by him, muttering something I didn't understand. Behind me, Boromir came rushing back in, passing me, holding a basin of water, and a cloth. He handed it to Gandalf, who immediately began mopping the poor Hobbit's forehead.

"What happened?" I whispered to Boromir, as he backed up to stand next to me, looking as though he had aged ten years in a night. "Boromir?" I gently touched his arm, and he jolted, looking down at me. "Are you alright?" I asked, my voice even and gentle.

He shook his head, looking pained. "I awoke when I heard a cry," he murmured, as we both turned to look at Gandalf who was tending to Pippin. "Merry was screaming, and when I awoke, Pippin was laying on the ground, and Merry was beside himself. I do not know what happened." He looked so upset, and I felt so awful for him. I gently rubbed his arm, whispering words of what I hoped sounded like comfort to him. After a few moments, Pippin began to stir, and we both rushed forward. He was whispering to Gandalf as we got closer.

"I saw a White Tree…" The Hobbit was saying, and he looked so terrified. Beside me, Boromir stiffened, and I knew what was coming next. "In a courtyard of stone…" His eyes were glazed with fear.

"A white tree?" I heard Gimli whisper to Legolas.

There was a long pause, before Pippin gasped once, his eyes widening.

"It was dead."

* * *

Boromir wasn't happy. Hell, was he _ever_ really happy? Either way, today especially he wasn't happy, and I knew exactly why.

After the incident with Pippin, Gandalf had insisted that he and the Hobbit head for Minas Tirith that morning. Boromir had contended that he would join them, and it had all been well and good, until I mentioned that I was wanting to go to Minas Tirith as well. Gandalf had said that he could make better time alone, and that Boromir should stick with his original plan of escorting me to the White City instead. Boromir had attempted to reason with the White Wizard, saying that if his city was in danger, he had to be there to defend it. Gandalf had put him in his place when he said that he would be faster alone, and Boromir was now off sulking somewhere. I had tried to help him feel better, saying that we could leave the same day, if he wanted, and that I could be ready to go at a moment's notice.

Gandalf and Pippin had left a few hours beforehand, and now that Boromir had calmed down a bit, we were ready to leave, as well. Gandalf would most likely cut the time it would take us to get to Minas Tirith in half, since he had gone alone, and his horse, Shadowfax, wouldn't need as much rest as ours would.

We were only minutes out of the city, when I turned to Boromir, wheeling my horse around gently. I was still trying to get the hang of riding a horse, and so far I think I was doing alright. I had packed light, keeping with me my toiletry kit, two dresses, and two pairs of shoes. We had a couple of skeins of water, a block of cheese, some bread, and some dried meat. Aedre had given me some bandages as well, just in case.

The older woman had nearly hugged the life out of me before we left. "Take care, girl. Come back in one piece." As she said this, I had felt tears spring into my eyes.

"Aedre," I said quietly. I felt my heart begin to hurt. "I don't plan on coming back." The woman had let go of me, and her eyes were filled with shock and hurt. After a moment, she had slowly let go of me, and nodded once, not saying a word. That had been the last interaction I had had with her.

Now, as we prepared to race off into the sunset to go to a city I had been dreaming about going to all my life, I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach.

"Boromir?" I said quietly, turning my horse to face him. He looked sullen, but a little better than he had been earlier.

"Yes?" He asked, riding up so he could better speak with me. "Are you well?"

I nodded slowly, feeling worry start to pull at me. "I was just wondering… Is there any way we could stop in Aldburg on the way to Minas Tirith? I know it's slightly out of the way, but…"

He raised an eyebrow. "Aldburg? Why do you wish to stop there?" He looked a little skeptical, but not unkind.

I looked down at my hands. I had wrapped Bera's necklace around my wrist as a bracelet; it had felt wrong to wear it as she had, but I wanted to keep it safe. "Bera was from there," I said softly, and when I looked back up at Boromir, realization was dawning on his face. "I wanted to find her family, maybe tell them what happened to her. I won't be long there, I promise. It'll add maybe one more day to our trip, that's all, I swear." When he didn't answer right away, I began to panic.

Finally, he answered. "You truly cared for her, did you not?" His voice was quiet, and his eyes were calm.

I felt my voice catch in my throat when I spoke again. "She was one of the only people I've met here that I could truly call a friend." When there was another moment of silence, I added. "I could go on my own if you prefer. I don't want to stop you from getting home, but this is something I have to do." My voice came out stronger than I anticipated, and I felt a surge of confidence.

Boromir smiled slightly, "That is not necessary." I raised an eyebrow, and he continued. "I said I would accompany you to Minas Tirith, and I intend to follow through with that promise." He pulled his horse passed me, and turned to look at me once. "If by my life, or death, I will protect you." When my mouth fell open in surprise, he added. "We should leave now, and we can perhaps make it to Aldburg by sundown." He then began to ride away from me, heading south.

I stared after him, hardly daring to believe what he had just agreed to. He was really willing to add another day to his trip back to his own home just to help me get there safely? What a gentlemanly, kind thing to do. I doubted very much that any guy, no, _man_ , from back home would agree to such a thing. They probably would've made me go alone, or something. Hell, not just men, anyone. Anyone else would've made me go alone, but not Boromir. Not him.

I felt something tug in my lower abdomen, and climb up into my chest. It felt hot, and tingled right down to the tips of my fingers, as I watched him ride away from me. Suddenly, my eyes began to widen, as it dawned on me.

 _Uh oh_.

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 **A/N:** **Who can guess what Kayla just realized? I am terrible. I hope you all enjoyed this one, and are excited for what's coming next!**


	16. Aldburg

**A/N:** **Happy New Year, everyone! Not a long note, guys. I am trying to update more frequently, so here is the most recent one! I couldn't think of a clever title for this chapter, so it'll have to just be this. Enjoy!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Sixteen:**

 **Aldburg**

* * *

I don't have much experience in relationships. I had a boyfriend in high school, a boyfriend in my first year of university, and a guy I was kind of seeing last summer for a few weeks, but that was almost ten months before. So, to put it bluntly, I hadn't been in any kind of real relationship since the guy I had dated in my first year, and I hadn't had a "physical" relationship with someone in almost a year.

I had been staring at the back of Boromir's head for over an hour now as we rode south towards Aldburg. My eyes were narrowed, and it felt like I looked like I was trying to decipher a secret code in his hair or something. We hadn't spoken much since our departure from Edoras, and I was glad for it, since my insides felt like hundreds of Crebain from Dunland had been released into my stomach, and were now performing acrobatics from within me. To put it simply: I felt like I was going to be sick.

I was not good with feelings, I never had been. I either rushed headlong into relationships without getting to know the person well first, which ended with the relationship ending poorly either too soon, or not soon enough, or I took too much time getting to know the person, and I missed my chance at a real relationship with them. Now, the real question here was this: what was I suddenly feeling for Boromir?

Okay, yes, I could admit he was certainly attractive, in a kind of "I've just been to war" kind of way. Not only that, but I felt we had really become friends since I had arrived here. We hadn't known each other that long, so I was going to rule out that I was in love with him, since I felt I should have had spent more time with him to feel like that. I knew things, especially the idea of love, was very different here. It was like in the video game, _Skyrim_ , when you could marry a companion of your choosing. When you asked them to marry you, they said something like, "This world is too dangerous a place to court one another. If you find someone you care for, tell them, because like is short, blah, blah, blah." Basically, they didn't believe in the agonizing build-up of feelings to the point of explosion before the inevitable admission of being hopelessly in love with someone, and it seemed to be the same here. I kind of admired it, even if it wasn't necessarily something I personally would do. Besides, I was going home anyway, wasn't I? Who had time for feelings anyway?

I had seen two weddings happen after we had all returned from Helm's Deep. I guess people didn't want to waste any time idling if their lives could be taken at any moment, and I respected them for it. I kind of understood now why Aedre had tried to push me so hard to find a husband, even though I knew, personally, I wasn't ready. Especially now. Hell, now things felt even more complicated.

What the hell did I feel for Boromir? Why did my stomach do a stupid flip flop when he had agreed to come with me to Aldburg without as much as a fuss? Maybe I was just being appreciative. Maybe my stupid brain was trying to make me think things that weren't there. I didn't have time for this, anyway. I wasn't going to Minas Tirith to be with Boromir when he came home. I was going to Minas Tirith to go to the Library and try to find a spell, or some kind of indication, on how I got here, and how to get home. He wasn't coming with me to Aldburg for some kind of day trip, either. He was coming with me because it was literally on the way to his home, give or take another day-ish.

I screwed up my eyes, and took a few deep breaths. I was going to drive myself to insanity if I kept on like this. Yes, Boromir was attractive, I'd always thought that in the movies and, especially now that I knew him in actuality, I'd be a fool to try to deny it. Yes, I was glad that he hadn't died in the battle for Helm's Deep, and yes, I was glad he was my friend. But, I couldn't go running wildly into something unknown, nor did I have the time to do so. He was kind, and I was glad I had met him, and subsequently saved his life by accident, but that was it. There was nothing more there; there couldn't be – I couldn't afford there to be.

"What was it like?" I asked suddenly, trying to break the silence and, hopefully, take my mind off of the obvious.

"What was what like?" Boromir asked, and I saw his head swivel slightly on his horse as we kept pace in order to make it to Aldburg as expeditiously as possible. At this speed, we would most likely be there by morning, and after that, another two days to get to Minas Tirith.

I chose my next words carefully. In all the months I had known Boromir, I had never asked him about this, but I had been curious for a while. "It's just..." I paused, trying to find the right words. "Well, when I met you, the Fellowship had just broken, and Frodo had left. I know he took The One Ring with him, and you've mentioned before how much of an influence it had had on you. I was just wondering – what was it like? Being around something so evil? All I've ever heard are stories about the power that thing has. I can't imagine being near it, let alone actually touching it." I fell silent now, and my eyes moved upwards to see if Boromir had heard everything I had been saying. I saw he was facing front again, and he was silent, which worried me. Had I upset him?

I was about to say something, when he answered. He pulled his horse back, so that his horse was walking alongside me, keeping pace. I noted that his face was grim; his mouth set in a thin line. When he spoke, his tone was that of a man nostalgic, and also exhaustingly afraid.

"Have you ever been burned, Kayla? By fire, or the like?" I raised an eyebrow; it was such an odd question to ask, and I really didn't know how to answer. Obviously, yes, I had burned myself before, and yes, it had ben with my hair straightener, or while I had been cooking or something like that, but I couldn't just tell Boromir that. Once again, I was going to have to be crafty.

"Once," I said, throwing him a sidelong glance as I spoke, "When I was a little girl, I always wondered if the coals in the fire were hot, because I associated red, or bright, things with being warm or hot, and thought that something black couldn't possibly be hot." When I saw his mouth quirk in a smile, I added, "I picked up the coal when there actually was fire in the pit, so it burned my hand quite badly, and I learned from being so foolish. So, yes, I have burned myself before."

Boromir said nothing for a moment, before he spoke again. "And have you ever touched something so cold that you feel it in your bones?"

Again, another odd question, but I complied nonetheless. "I put my hand in a snowbank once."

Another twitch of the mouth before words. "If you were to take those two sensations, and imagine feeling them, not only in the place where the object causing them is touching you, but instead, you feel it in your very _skin_ , then you know what it is to experience the power The One Ring possesses."

There was a moment of silence between us, as I tried to process all the information I had just received. Finally, I said what I was thinking, and it came out sounding much stupider than I had intended. "So ... Hot and cold?"

He seemed unfazed by my idiotic comment when he replied. "No, it is far more than mere temperatures. It is unimaginable pain, and not merely in your skin. It resonates within your very _soul_ , your mind, and your heart. It causes your thoughts to become scattered, and your actions to no longer be your own. It can cause you to say, or attempt actions that normally would be foreign." I saw his brows crease at this statement, and I frowned. He was probably thinking about what he had done (or almost done) to Frodo, all those months ago.

"But that's just it, isn't it?" I said suddenly, causing Boromir to look at me. I tried to give him a reassuring look. "It's no ones fault for the actions they commit under the power of The Ring. Yes, it can cause the destruction of homes, lands, and people, but that's what The Ring intends."

"Why are you saying this?" Boromir questioned, his tone curious, if not a little sceptical.

I paused before answering, wondering what I should say. After a moment, I bravely replied, "Because I know you're thinking about what happened between you and Frodo." Another lapse of silence. "I shouldn't have asked about The One Ring; I'm sorry, it's clearly caused you pain to talk about. I didn't mean for you to relive any unpleasant memories. I was just curious." I faced front again, and shut my mouth, feeling stupid. We rode in silence for a while longer.

About twenty minutes passed before Boromir broke the silence.

"Thank you."

I blinked, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. "For what?"

"For saying what you said." He was glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, too.

I felt a little, confused smile play across my face. "What do you mean?"

Boromir actually pulled his horse to a stop, and turned to face me. I did the same, quickly, so as not to get too far ahead. "You did not have to say what you did about The One Ring, and the influence it has over others." His gaze was calm, softened by the situation. "You were kind to say it was not my fault."

I felt my own gaze soften, and I smiled gently at him. "You're human; everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is you learned from it."

He didn't say anything, but his mouth did lift a little in a small smile. We stayed like that for a moment, grey-green eyes holding dark eyes, before he turned his horse, and we set off again. As we did, I felt that tug in my lower abdomen again, and mentally cursed.

* * *

We arrived in Aldburg at daybreak. We had stopped to sleep a few hours after the sun set. I had suggested it, since if we arrived in the middle of the night, I didn't want to impose upon Bera's family by mistake, nor stay in an inn, since it could mean we'd be roped into staying longer than we could afford to. By getting there at daybreak, it meant that we could meet with them, and head out again by midday, allowing us another several hours of travel before we'd have to stop and make camp again.

I hadn't really slept much; I had tossed and turned all night, wrestling with my thoughts. I was very nervous about seeing Bera's family. What if they threw me out because of their daughter's death? What if they blamed me? Or worse, what if her family wasn't even here? What if they had died, or moved? What if we had come all this way for nothing? Bera would never be properly put to rest, so to speak, and I would be left feeling broken and foolish.

I didn't eat much for breakfast, either. I had nibbled on a piece of cheese while Boromir had wolfed down a hunk of bread, almost an entire skein of water, and some dried fruit. He had watched me curiously when he noticed I wasn't eating much, but didn't question it, thankfully. He could probably tell that I was nervous, and that I didn't want to talk about it. We had finished our breakfast in silence, before heading out for another hour of riding before we reached Aldburg. It was when we reached the top of a hill, that we saw it.

Aldburg.

It was massive; absolutely massive. Bigger than Edoras, for sure. It also looked really old; older than any settlement or town I had seen or been to since coming to Middle Earth. It's walls, from what I could see from a distance without my glasses, were high and made of stone, and if I squinted, I could see the large layers of moss growing on them. Buildings, far greater and more elaborate than those of Edoras, jutted up from beyond the wall, and in the centre was a huge fortress, which I'm sure housed someone important. It was pretty damn impressive, and I was a little sad that I wouldn't be able to see much more of it before we had to leave more Minas Tirith.

Boromir caught me staring open-mouthed at the city, and I heard him chuckle lightly. "It is quite incredible, is it not?"

I nodded mutely, before mumbling. "Yeah." I turned to look at him, "Have you ever been here?"

He shook his head, "Not in many, many years. I was a youth the last time; my father met with King Théoden and Lord Éomer here once to discuss matters of which I do not recall. What I do recall is my father storming out of the great fortress in a rage at something King Théoden said." He smiled sardonically, and I gave him a weak, albeit pained, smile in return.

"They don't get along well, do they?" I asked gently as we rode down the hill, and towards Aldburg.

Boromir chuckled darkly, "To put it lightly." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. I chose to let the matter drop there. In no time at all, we would be at the gates of Aldburg.

No more than a handful of moments later, we were at the gates of Aldburg. I stared up at the huge walls, my mouth hanging slightly open. As we stood, two guards approached us.

They were clad in armour similar to that of Edoras, but with more gold than brown, and it looked a little shinier. The one on the right spoke first. "Halt! Who are you; what business have you in Aldburg?" I saw their hands were on their swords, and I tensed, when Boromir spoke.

"I am Lord Boromir of Gondor, and this is Kayla of Bree-Land. We come seeking the family of a young woman who was lost during the Battle of Helm's Deep."

The guards seemed to calm at this, and their gazes drifted between us. The one on the left spoke now, his voice suspicious, but not unkind. "None from Aldburg ventured to Helm's Deep; we were heavily fortified. To whom are you referring?"

"Bera," I spoke before Boromir could, my voice straining slightly upon mention of her name. "We are looking for the family of Bera of Edoras. She was the handmaiden to Lady Éowyn of Rohan, and my friend. She died during the battle, and I wanted to pass along news of her death to her next of kin. I don't know their names; all she ever told me was that she was from Aldburg." There was silence, so I added, "She was young, not much younger than I, with golden hair and –"

The guard on the right held up a hand to silence me. I shut my mouth, watching him. He slowly moved towards my horse, and I felt myself instinctively moving myself away from him. As he approached, he removed his helmet, and let it fall to the ground. Behind him, the other guard moved forwards as well, and I heard him whisper, "Bana..." But the young man paid him no attention. He was close to me now, looking up at me with eyes that looked so familiar. Why did they look so familiar..? Beside me, I felt Boromir stiffen, his hand drifting to his sword.

The young man (was his name Bana?) spoke to me now. "I know where Bera's family resides."

I felt my heart leap, "You do? That's fantastic; where are they? How do you know?" Beside me, Boromir slowly let his grip on his sword loosen, seeming more at ease. The young man continued to stare up at me, his eyes, so familiar as they were, looked sad.

"I know," he took a breath, and I could see the pain in his gaze, and all at once, I knew before he spoke.

"I know because I am Bana; Bera was my sister."

* * *

The house was small; one might not even consider using the term "house" to describe it. It was one large room, with three small walls separating three beds, one bigger than the others to hold two people. There was a hearth, and a small fire burned. Beside the hearth was a large, wooden table with a few chairs around it. Seated in those chairs were Bana, his armour shed, Boromir, who looked a little uncomfortable, me, who felt sad and angry and guilty, and two people who looked exactly like Bera, as though she was a perfect split between them.

After Bana had admitted to being who he was, he had taken a very shocked me, and an equally shocked Boromir into Aldburg, and quickly down a path alongside the walls of the city, so we weren't able to see much of the city itself, and into a small house, and now here we sat. Bana had explained to his parents, Bera's parents, who Boromir and I were, and what had happened to Bera in Helm's Deep.

Bera's mother had broken down, clinging to her son, begging him to tell her it wasn't true, while her husband had regarded us with steely eyes, though not filled with blame or accusation. He had said he had felt that something had happened to her when her letters had stopped. It broke my heart to know that they had had a feeling that their daughter was dead. Now, as we sat at the table, making awkward small talk, and eating a small lunch before Boromir and I had to leave again, I finally had the courage to tell them what I had told no one since Bera had died.

It was during a particular moment of silence that I finally burst out with it. "Bera died a hero."

Her mother, Berole, started, staring at me. "What did you say?" She was clasping Bera's necklace in her hand. It had been when I had handed it to her that she had broken down, and now she held it like she was holding her daughter again.

I felt everyone looking at me, especially Boromir, who looked perplexed. I forced myself to speak again. "Bera didn't just get killed as though she was backed into a corner. She died a hero; she died..." I took a breath; they thought she had died like a lamb to the slaughter. It was time that I told them otherwise. "She died saving my life."

There was a stunned silence. No one spoke; they all stared at me silently, even Boromir, who looked shocked, his brows creased together. I thought I heard him whisper my name, but before I could really take notice, Bron, Bera's father, spoke.

"She spoke of you in her letters; not always, but she did." His grey eyes watched me, and they quivered with unshed tears for his baby girl. "She was fond of you – she felt you were her friend. She did not say it directly, but I could tell from how she spoke of you."

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. I felt my eyes sting, and my lower lip quiver slightly. I felt the tears pool, and I dropped my gaze. She had thought of me as a friend, too? This was too much; I felt the pain of her loss stab at me anew. I made myself speak, so as not to appear unfazed, or god forbid ungrateful. "She died as a hero." I forced my gaze back up, "And I'm so sorry."

"You have a kind heart," Bron, the blacksmith of Aldburg, whose wife helped make clothing for its children, whose son protected it, and whose daughter had saved my life, by giving hers, spoke to me again. "She would not have given her life if she didn't feel yours was worth preserving.

I felt a stab of guilt, and I looked down again at my semi-eaten bowl of stew that Berole had made for us. I think Boromir took this as his queue, and he stood, addressing Bera's family.

"We are both deeply sorry for the loss of your daughter, and sister," he added, looking at Bana, who nodded. "I knew her, not as well as Kayla, but well enough to know that she was kind of heart, and brave of soul. May she never be forgotten." He then raised a fist to his chest in a kind of salute, which Bron and Bana mimicked, and Berole wiped a few tears away again. I stared up at Boromir, my heart swelling with gratitude. He caught my eye, and we exchanged a nod. It was time to go.

Bera's family accompanied us to the stables where our horses were kept. Bron gripped Boromir's arm in respect, and Bana saluted him again. Bron then placed a hand on my shoulder, and nodded once, before stepping back to allow Bana to salute me, as well. Berole was watching from a slight distance, and the two men moved back to give us some space. Boromir took this opportunity to ready the horses. As he passed me, his placed a single hand on my shoulder, which I reached up to hold for a moment, giving him a grateful smile, before he moved to tend the horses.

Berole looked at me for a moment, before wrapping her arms around me, bringing me into a hug. As she did, she whispered in my ear, "Thank you for bringing our daughter's spirit home." She then pulled back to look at me, holding me at arm's length. Christ, she looked like Bera. I felt tears sting my eyes, and I blinked them back. I nodded thickly, trying to keep it together.

Then they were gone, and I was left wondering if I had made the right decision in telling them the truth about Bera's death, and even in coming here.

I was still mulling it over, when I felt a hand on my shoulder again. I turned, and found Boromir next to me, his face a mixture of concern, and resolve. "Are you alright, Kayla?"

I nodded slowly, "Yes. Well, no, actually." I wiped my eyes, giving him a watery smile. "I will be, though. Thank you for coming here with me. It means a lot that you did."

He looked down at me, one hand gripping the reigns of his horse, and the other removing itself from my shoulder. "You never told me that Bera gave her life for you." I looked down, my heart hurting. He spoke again, his tone gentle, and I looked up at him. "That is why you felt such guilt regarding her death, is it not?"

My eyes were burning. All I could do was nod. It hurt to think about her; to know that, were it not for me, she might still be alive... She might be –

My thoughts were cut short when Boromir suddenly pulled me into a one-armed hug, his arm around my shoulders, crushing my face into his chest/shoulder area. I smelled the leathers of his tunic, and the horse hair that clung to it. We hadn't hugged since Helm's Deep; this felt odd, and yet very comforting, but mostly very out-of-character for him. I didn't question it, however. I just closed my eyes, and let it happen, allowing myself to feel safe and secure for that brief moment. My hands drifted up to gently touch his elbow of the arm around me, and his side with the other. I don't know how long we stayed like that, but almost as soon as he had hugged me, he let go.

We pulled apart, looking up at one another in silence. After a moment, he spoke. "We should depart; it is another two, perhaps three, days to Minas Tirith." He then moved passed me, guiding his horse towards the open plains before us, mounted up, and wheeled to face me, waiting.

I nodded quickly, moving to guide my own horse away from the stables in order to mount up. As I did, and as I followed Boromir away from Aldburg, and towards Minas Tirith, my insides squirmed again.

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 **A/N:** **Hope you all like this! It's a bit shorter than I intended; I am writing this on my new tablet, and the keyboard is difficult to get used to. Either way, I hope you all enjoyed this; more to come!**


	17. The Road Goes On

**A/N:** **Hi, everyone! Terribly sorry for the delayed update on this story. I have not given up on it! About a month ago, I picked up my life, and moved across the country, and since then, I have been getting used to my new life, and settling in. However, I have a long weekend, and would like to get some work on this done! So, without further ado, here is the latest chapter of** _ **Journey to a Curious Place**_ **! This chapter will definitely be a more "filler" chapter, rather than a plot driven one; bear with me!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Seventeen:**

 **The Road Goes On**

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It would be about another two or three days until we reached Minas Tirith, and I was going to have to keep my shit together if I was to survive. Emotionally, I mean. If possible, my insides were in more turmoil than they had been when we had left Edoras. I took to riding in silence, and keeping my gaze on either the land ahead, or my horse's very white mane. She seemed to like when I stroked it anyway, which helped in my distractions.

Much to my happiness, despite the initial awkwardness with my current emotional state, Boromir suggested we stop in a village for the night, on the eve of the first day on our journey to Minas Tirith. When I asked him why the change, he told me that it had been a hard day, and we could use the human interaction (and actual beds). That, and, according to our map, this village was directly on our path to the White City. I couldn't say I wasn't appreciative of this move on his part; it would be nice to sleep in a warm bed, and have some well cooked food. That, and I knew he was doing this because of how gross and emotional I had been earlier. I didn't mention that I knew this, but I smiled to myself as we rode.

We made it to the village just as the sun was getting high in the sky. Okay, it was more of a town, rather than a village. It reminded me a bit of Bree, insofar as the layout of the town, though it was clear that we were nearing the border of Rohan and Gondor, as the architecture was beginning to change. It was less brown, with less accents of horses and bronze, and more grey, with small accents of marble, though I was almost positive that it wasn't real marble, seeing as towns and villages couldn't possibly have enough income to sustain such beautiful stone work.

There could perhaps be around a few dozen people that lived here – possibly a hundred at the most. I know it sounds like a lot of people if pictured in a small room, but when there are a few houses, a few shops, an inn with a tavern attached, a stable, and a small keep where I figured the mayor, or someone of the like, must live, and a couple of other little places, it really seemed a lot like a ghost town. Very small, and very quiet.

Boromir and I made our way in, depositing our horses at the stable just outside of the village. We wouldn't be more than a night in this place, but the horses deserved a good rest, too. They had been running all day and, despite being Rohan horses, and known for their perseverance, we didn't want to kill them by accident. That would be bad.

We wandered through the village, and made our way to the inn, barely speaking. We hadn't spoken much since his suggestion of coming here. I suspected he was just tired, but I was also secretly worrying that he might have caught on to how awkward I had ben acting. I tried to brush away my nervousness, but to no avail. I found I had begun to grind my teeth as we approached the inn, or at least what I suspected was the inn. It looked very inn-shaped, with high, glass windows, and a sign that swung above the door with a single white rose carved into the wood. It was rather pretty, and I wondered if the place was called _The White Rose_.

When we entered, I knew immediately I would like this place. A haze hung in the air, as if everyone there was smoking a pipe, though it wasn't stifling at all. Candles, braziers, and a large fire place, cast a warm glow throughout the entire place, and the smell of ale, mead, stew, and fresh baked bread hung in the air, to the point that my mouth began to water. Yes, the food in Edoras was good, but this felt different somehow. Boromir seemed to catch me staring, my mouth hanging open, and I heard him chuckle. I blushed, closing my mouth, and dropping my gaze as he spoke.

"As we draw nearer to Gondor, the places will change. Especially the food," I saw his mouth curb in a smirk, and I was sure my colour deepened. "Do not look so embarrassed, Kayla. It has been a time since I have tasted of my homeland; I am as anxious as you are." I moved to look at him, but before I could say anything, he was gone, walking up to who I supposed was the innkeeper, and handed over a small satchel, gesturing to me behind him. I took that as a queue, and moved forward to stand next to him. The innkeeper peered at me from under bushy, dark brows, and I shrank back slightly.

"Will milord and his wife be looking for a table tonight, as well?"

My eyes bugged out of my head, and I felt Boromir stiffen, before letting out a good natured laugh. "Oh, we are not man and wife. We are mere traveling companions on the road to the White City. We will require separate beds, please." He handed over an extra coin, as the bushy brows of the innkeeper shot up in surprise.

"Begging your pardon, milord," he said, taking the coin, and handing Boromir a large, brass key. "Your room – two beds, up the stairs, second door on the left." He then bid us a good evening, and moved to attend to other patrons. Boromir and I exchanged a look, mine still of sheer mortification, and his of amusement, before he gestured towards an empty table in the corner, and we moved to sit down.

The chairs were comfortable enough – made of wood, and solid against my back, forcing me to use good posture, something I had always been bad at. I rested my back against the hard surface, and crossed one leg over the other. I hadn't been able to sit like this for a while, seeing as Edoras had had only stools for me to sit on, or benches. The only chair with any kind of back on it had been Théoden's throne.

The table felt worn, like that of an old restaurant, or the outside of a cabin in the woods. It reminded me of the tables used at summer camps for little kids. I absently ran my hand over it, feeling how modern, and yet how ancient it felt. I found myself thinking of home again, and felt my eyes burn a little at the thought that this table might be the closest thing I would have to feeling something from my world again. I blinked rapidly, looking down at my hands, my nails digging into the wood slightly.

My head shot up when something was put down in front of me. It was a steel mug of what I guessed was ale, and a bowl of something that smelled a lot like French onion soup, though I was 98% sure that wasn't what it was. I also saw a hunk of bread, and a wedge of cheese on a wooden plate had appeared, as well. I realized that Boromir had brought it over; I hadn't even noticed he had left. He had probably seen me staring intently at the table, and took that as a queue to go get food while I pondered.

He sat down now, watching me. "Are you well, Kayla?" He took a drink from his mug, swallowing, and watching me, the fire from the surrounding torches and hearth glinting in his grey-green eyes. "You appear to be lost in thought."

I took a sip of my own ale, swishing it around my mouth before answering. I had grown to actually kind of like the taste now, as the months wore on. It was like really, _really_ bitter beer. "I'm alright; just eager to get to Minas Tirith and into that huge library you mentioned. I need answers." I picked at my soup, stirring the thick broth, and tasted it gingerly, fearing the steam rising from it. Yup, tasted almost identical to French onion – yum.

Boromir was watching me over his own bowl. "As am I; I look forward to seeing my home again. And for you to perhaps obtain answers as to how you came to the forest." He stirred his soup, lightly tasting it, before taking some of the cheese.

I nibbled on a piece of bread, becoming suddenly aware of something: Boromir, or anyone for that matter, still didn't know where I was from. He still though I was suffering from amnesia, having been kidnapped, and dumped in a forest somewhere, only happening upon the Fellowship by accident. None of them knew the real story, how I had come here, and how I knew everything, and everyone, better than they did. My stomach churned as these thoughts swirled inside my brain, and I put down the bread, feeling suddenly sick.

Boromir seemed to notice my change in attitude, and put down the spoon to his soup, watching me. "Kayla? Are you certain you are well?"

I looked up from my now interlaced fingers, "Hm? Oh, yes. I'll be fine, I promise." I gave him a weak smile, trying to diverge away from the topic. He looked like he wanted to reply, when suddenly the door to the inn opened, and a group of people walked in. No, wait, not people.

 _Elves._

They didn't look like they hailed from Lothlorien or Mirkwood, however, as they were not faired haired like Legolas or Haldir, but instead had dark hair, like that of a chestnut mare, or Coca Cola – it shimmered red in the firelight. They were tall and lithe, as elves were, with skin pale as snow, but glowed in a healthy way, rather than making them look sallow.

They were beautiful.

I hadn't seen elves this close up before, other than Legolas, and it was almost surreal. Among the group of mostly male elves, a female elf appeared. She had long, auburn hair, half pinned up, and like her kin, wore a deep green tunic, with a bow slung over her back. She was gorgeous, and I immediately felt a girl-crush form. I wished I was as beautiful as her. Even a fraction of her beauty would make me happy.

Boromir saw me staring in awe at these creatures, and his mouth turned up in a small smile. "You have seen elves, Kayla, why do you look so petrified?"

"I've never seen a female one before, nor this close up." I said it without thinking, and blushed when he chuckled. "What?" I retorted indignantly, "She's gorgeous. Even you have to admit that."

Boromir looked over at the elven woman, his grey eyes analytical. "She is fair of face and figure, I will admit, yes." I glanced at him, surprised he actually admitted it. "However," he continued, "I am not one to seek the company of elves. That is something Lord Aragorn is better known for." He smirked, though not unkindly, and I smiled back.

"What do you suppose they're doing here?" I asked, taking another spoonful of soup, my appetite having returned since seeing the elves. Their presence had an oddly calming feel.

"I imagine they are traveling to the Grey Havens," Boromir replied thoughtfully.

"To leave Middle Earth?" I asked, turning my gaze back to Boromir.

He looked surprised. "Why, yes. How do you know of the Grey Havens?" He gave me a quizzical stare, and I panicked briefly, before speaking.

"I overheard Legolas and Aragorn talking about it in Edoras one night. I asked, and they told me its an Elven Port in the realm of Eriador. It's where the elves go to "pass on" or to be safe, or something, right?"

He nodded slowly, "We are in a time of war and fear, and it is the fault of men, as the elves would see it. That band there will be on their way to the port, I expect. They have come here to feed their horses, or gather supplies, possibly."

"I thought elves only eat _lembas_ bread and leaves," I joked, and Boromir laughed.

Just then, there was the loud sound of voices, and we both turned to look. There was a man who had stood, and was now shouting at the group of elves, his face red with rage, and in his hand he clutched a mug of mead. It sloshed out and onto the floor as he brandished it like a weapon at the elves.

"Cowards!" He shouted at them, "Bloody cowards! You sit up there in your high towers, watching us fight and die against Mordor and the dark forces, and you just sit by!" The elves were watching him, unspeaking and unmoving, their expressions still and serene. "You're off to your escape – to leave this world when it needs you most! _Cowards!_ " He spat at their feet.

Boromir and I exchanged a look, and I felt nervous. These elves looked like they could kill ay of us in a split second, and this man was asking for it.

"It would do you well to cease your senseless babble, human." One of the elves, a male, spoke. His voice was a pleasant baritone, but it was laced with ice. His pale eyes were fixed on the man, and I saw his hand was twitching to the dagger on his hip. The auburn haired female elf stepped forward, touching his arm, and shaking her head slightly. She whispered something to him that was most likely in elvish, before turning her gaze on the man, who shrank back from her golden-green glare.

That seemed to be enough to shut the man up, because he scurried back to his table without another word. His friends at his table jostled him playfully, perhaps scolding him for trying to bitch out elves. While many eyes were upon the man, mine were on the elves. The elven woman had given the innkeeper a small pouch of gold, said something to him, before turning back to her group, nodding once, and they headed towards the door again. As her companions passed her, I noted that her eyes lingered on our table for a moment, specifically on me, staring at her. Her mouth twitch slightly, as though she was going to laugh, or call to me, but she did not. Instead, she turned, and in a swirl of green and auburn, she was gone.

"You do not see many female rangers among elves," Boromir commented, taking a swig of his drink, eyes still on the door even after it had shut, and the atmosphere of the inn returned to normal.

"No?" I asked, taking a small spoonful of my soup, which was slowly getting cold.

He shrugged slightly, while finishing his soup. "Not that I have seen in my travels, I'm afraid. In the times I have encountered elves, they have always been male, unless they are of royalty of higher rank, in which case I have met a female elf."

"Was Lady Galadriel the last one you met?" I asked, quickly slurping up the rest of my soup in the most unladylike fashion.

He looked momentarily uncomfortable, and then thoughtful. "She was, yes." He didn't seem to want to continue, so I didn't press the matter. We lapsed into silence as we finished our food and drink. I couldn't help but wonder what exactly Galadriel had said to Boromir when The Fellowship had been in Lothlorien. I mean, yes, we knew what he had told _Aragorn_ what she had said, but I wondered if he had paraphrased at all.

Another twenty minutes of mostly silence passed, and we had finished our meal, and ascended the stairs to our room. Boromir let me changed into my bedclothes in private while he waited in the hall, before entering to ready himself for bed. He removed his tunic, clad only in his over shirt and breeches, while I stared pointedly at the wall, my face crimson.

I washed up in the basin provided, cleaning my face and behind my ears, and swishing water around my mouth from a skein I had brought with me from Edoras, while Boromir did the same. I climbed into bed as Boromir moved to blow out the candle in order to let us sleep.

"It'll be nice to have a proper bath when we get to your home." I quipped as I snuggled myself under the slightly scratchy blankets, "Not to mention clean clothes."

Boromir grunted lightly in response, and the candle blew out, launching us into darkness. I heard him climb into his bed, and settle in. "It will be; it has been some time since I have been home."

"Are you excited, or nervous?" I asked; I lay on my back, listening to the creaks and squeaks of the old wooden inn. I heard him roll over, and imagined his face, possibly contorted in thought.

"I am both, I believe." He admitted; it sounded like he wanted to say more, but was cut off by his own yawn.

"We should sleep," I said, rolling on my side myself, getting comfortable.

If he nodded, I didn't know, but he spoke into the darkness again. "You are correct, we should. Rest well, Kayla. Tomorrow, we ride for Minas Tirith."

Excitement bubbled up inside me, but I bit it back. Soon... Soon I would maybe find answers as to how and why I was here and, more importantly, how to get home.

"Goodnight, Boromir."

"Goodnight, Kayla."

* * *

 **A/N:** **That took a while, I apologise! This was most definitely a filler chapter, as the next will be our heroes' journey and entering into Minas Tirith! I hope you all enjoyed this baby of a chapter. More to come, stay tuned!**


	18. Minas Tirith

**A/N:** **Not a long one, woo. They're coming to Minas Tirith soon! Also, fun fact, this fanfic is almost a year old! The next time I update, it'll surely be one years old. I haven't been this active, for this long, on a fanfiction in a long time. It's you people, my reviewers, that keep me going. Thank you. On we go!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Eighteen:**

 **Minas Tirith**

The morning dawned early. Early for me, anyway. Boromir was still sound asleep when I awoke. My eyelids fluttered, and I found myself staring up at the wooden beamed ceiling of the inn. Pale light filtered through the nearby shut window panels, and the candle from the night before had long since burnt out, its wax melted all over the little wooden table it sat upon. Smoke hung in the morning air in a haze, and I figured people were out and about working and cooking. Speaking of which, I felt my stomach rumble slightly at the thought of food. Now that I was back on a more regular eating schedule, I found I got hungrier faster.

I carefully slipped out of bed, running my fingers through my tangled hair, making a mental note to get my hands on my brush when I had the chance. I pulled my woolen socks back on, and shoved my feet in my worn shoes. Despite the sun being out, it was still cool out, and I was grateful for the socks. They had been a gift from Aedre long before I had left Edoras. Now, they served as a reminder that I would not only probably never see her again, but also for the unfailing kindness of the people of Middle Earth, at least in my opinion.

I heard a soft snore, and I jerked around, my still foggy eyes focusing on Boromir, who lay asleep. I had to supress a giggle when he snored again. So, he snored? Cute. Somehow I had never pictured Boromir to me someone who snored, for all intents and purposes. He seemed refined and stoic; someone who slept like a corpse, even. But, he snored, and that someone made him more human to me, more real. My heart gave an affectionate flutter, and I felt colour rush to my cheeks, as I quickly stamped it out.

I slipped across the room, taking my brush out of my bag, and yanking it through my mess of hair, careful not to wake Boromir. It was a bit of a chore doing so, as my hair was getting longer now, and more easily tangled. It irritated me, but I was also a bit happy about it. I hadn't had my hair long in years, so this was a nice change, so to speak. It was no where near as long as Éowyn's, or even Legolas's, but it was getting there. It was nearing my shoulders now, and without layers, or any sort of styling, it was getting pretty thick. My roots were also becoming more visible, as well, but time in the sun was helping it seem less obvious. My hair was lighter than what I had dyed it, but the dye was fading, and my hair was blending better with my coloured part. I looked a bit less ridiculous than I thought I had looked, I suppose.

I heard a shift behind me, and I turned again. Boromir was rolling over, but still very much asleep. I found myself watching him as he did so, mildly fascinated for some reason. He looked so innocent, and so calm as he slept (despite the snoring). He didn't look like a Lord, or a warrior, or even soldier. He looked like a man, a simple man, sleeping off a hard day's work. But, I knew that a darkness still lingered there. I could see it in his brow as I drew nearer to him. Why was I moving closer? I couldn't answer that.

Before I realized it I was standing by his bedside, watching him sleep. I was well aware how incredibly creepy this was, but I found that people were themselves when they slept. Their faced showed their inner soul, I felt. When my brother was little, and we had shared a room, whenever we had had a fight, and we would go to bed, I could see that, despite making up with one another, it would still hurt him, the nasty things I would say. That crease in his brow would always be there, right until morning, or until I woke him up and apologized to him.

I felt a lump form in my throat. I may never see my brother again, if I couldn't figure out how I got here. The pain felt so real all of a sudden, that I had to sit down, and that ended up being on the edge of Boromir's bed. I felt soft sobs begin to wrack my body, and I had to stifle them by placing my hand over my mouth, tears spilling out of my eyes. I hadn't cried over my family in months.

Months.

It had been two months, _over_ two months since I had been home. Had it been three months yet? You know, it very well could have been. I had no idea anymore. I was literally just assuming that it had been only two months, but it felt like an age had passed. I was so different now, so changed. Would my family even know me when they saw me? Would they have given up the search already? Had they even started a search?

A sound brought me back to my new reality. Boromir was shifting again, but this time he looked distressed. This was not uncommon. I had awoken once or twice during our time traveling the land on horseback to hear him whimpering in the darkness, not never close enough to actually see or do something about it. The first time it had happened, it had been only a few days after I had met him, so I had been too terrified, and still disliking of him, to want to help or do anything. Now, however, it was different.

He looked to be in such pain. His brow was furrowed, and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. He hadn't done this in weeks, as far as I knew. But, then again, we hadn't shared a room in weeks, either. I could see his eyes rolling around under his lids, and his lips moved wordless, and soundlessly. He was probably having a stress dream about The One Ring, again, as many were said to after encountering it. He had been so influenced by it, and had gone through so many trials because of it, that it didn't surprise me to see him like this, again.

I found myself gently reaching for him as he lay there, suffering. I didn't know why I did it, but I felt I had to. He had been so kind to me as of late, and I felt I owed it to him to show him some in return. I shimmied up the bed, until I was seated by his torso, and I slowly reached down, my hand carefully taking his, as to not rouse him, or frighten him. Never wake a distressed sleeping person, my mother always said.

I wound my fingers through his, gently holding his hand in mine, and stroking along the ridge of his knuckles with my thumb, murmuring words of comfort, and hush sounds as I did. With my other hand, I reached over him, doing the same thing on his far shoulder, keeping my movements slow and gentle. After a moment, his torment seemed to dissipate, and he calmed. As he did, I saw his eyes open, and I slowly leaned back and away, careful as to not startle him. His grey eyes were confused at first, but as they cleared, they came to focus on me.

"Kayla?" His voice was hoarse, and he moved to sit up, and I slowly leaned away, removing my hand from his, and seating myself away at a comfortable distance. "What is it? Are you alright?"

I felt my mouth curb in a small smile. "Yes, Boromir, I'm fine. You were having a nightmare, and seemed distressed; I wanted to make sure you were okay." I squeezed his hand again, trying to give him my best smile; trying to hide that I had been crying on his bed not moments before.

He looked at me, then down at our interlocked hands. I felt him squeeze slightly, and I felt my heart speed up, accidentally taking in more air than I wanted to, and much more loudly than intended. His head snapped up, and I saw his eyes were far more intense than they usually were. He also looked like he may still be half-asleep, judging by the slightly unfocused air that they had. I moved to get off his bed, and return to mine, but when I began to take my hand away, his fingers closed tighter.

I felt my mouth go dry. What the hell was going on with him? He was acting so strange. I looked down at his hand, now covering mine, and then up at him. He was looking at me, right in the face. His grey eyes held my dark ones, and I felt my heart begin to speed up. I could feel my insides begin to turn to fire.

"Kayla," my name sounded foreign in his mouth, and he looked just as frozen and surprised as I was. I felt the bed shift as he sat up straighter, bringing himself closer to me. I felt myself swallow. Everything seemed to be happening out of body. I could see us sitting there on his bed, our hands interlaced, as we moved closer to one another. What the hell was happening?

My eyes moved from his mouth, to his eyes, to his hand on mine, and back again. "Boromir, I…" I was at a loss for words. Was he moving closer, or was I? _What the hell was going on?!_

His eyes focused in on me, and mine on his, and that was when I realized it.

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

And I wanted him to kiss me.

I had never wanted something, and feared something so badly in my life, and I knew if I didn't do something, it would happen. How I knew this, I did not know, but I knew that I had to stop it. Boromir was over tired, and still reeling from his nightmare. He wasn't thinking or acting rashly, and I knew he would regret this as much as I would, were I to let it happen

I leaned away, but not too fast as to upset him. Just fast enough to get his attention. His face went slack, and he sat up straighter, his posture that of a Lord, a warrior, a soldier, again. His hand let go of mine, and the absence of the warmth momentarily made me sad.

"A nightmare?" His tone was flat. I nodded again. His mouth was a straight line, and I stood slowly. "My apologies; I did not mean to disturb you." His voice was not unkind, but he sounded a bit off. I tried to ignore it.

"You didn't," I muttered lamely, returning to the other side of the room, and seating myself on my bed. We sat in awkward silence for a moment, my heart still banging against my ribcage over what had almost just happened. Was Boromir feeling the same way? Was he mad at me? Did he realize that he had almost made a huge mistake, and was regretting even allowing himself to get so close? I looked down at my hands, and then back up at him. He wasn't looking at me, but I knew he knew I was looking at him.

After a few more moments of silence, I stood, and moved across the room. "I'm starving," I said, turning back to look at him. He was watching me, his eyes less clouded, and his face less guarded. "I'm going to go down and find some food; want anything?"

He himself stood now, climbing out of bed, and straightening his tunic. "I will join you, if you'll give me a moment." I nodded, averting my gaze as he changed. After a moment, he was ready, and we gathered our things, the exited the room. We went downstairs, back into the tavern, and bid farewell to the innkeeper. We bought some bread and cheese, as well as refilled our water skeins, before exiting the tavern, and returning to our horses.

The sun was early in the sky, and dew still clung to the ground. The air was gold, and I could feel cool mist touching to my face. We guided our horses out of the stable, and mounted up. I wheeled my horse around to face Boromir. I had become rather good at riding since arriving here. I had had a lot of practice.

"How long until we reach Minas Tirith?" I asked. I tried to keep the conversation light, since I knew that there was still a bit of awkwardness between us since that morning. We had eaten in silence, gotten the horses in silence, and now we were mounted and ready to go in silence, and I'd be damned if this was how things were going to be until we got to The White City.

"A few hours, perhaps," Was Boromir's reply. He was looking ahead of us, probably scouting our path ahead.

"I'm excited," I said as we began to move. "And I'm sure you're very excited to go home?" When he nodded curtly, I followed his gaze, and saw that he was staring ahead at the mountain range along the right side of the valley. The mountains. I felt a small, sad smile pass across my face, and I looked back at him. "All we must do is follow the mountains, and we're home, right?"

This seemed to break the tension a bit. I saw Boromir's face crack in a smile, and I felt mine get bigger. He turned to look at me, and all the confusion, irritation, and somewhat angst was gone from his face. "You are correct, Kayla. Follow the mountains."

I nodded, my smile still fixed on my face, and my excitement to see Minas Tirith bubbling. "Then let's get you home, Boromir of Gondor."

* * *

"What do you hope to find within the library?" Boromir asked as we rode. His voice caught on the wind, and it made it a little hard to hear him, but I managed to strain my ears.

We had been riding for about an hour and a half now, and it felt like we were no closer to arriving at Minas Tirith. My inner thighs were getting sore. I hadn't ridden this much in ages, and my body wasn't used to it. My bones were being jostled like nuts in a jar, and my hair was so windswept I probably looked like I had a Mohawk by now, or like I was a Who down in Whoville. Either or.

"I don't know," I replied. "Answers I guess. Maybe some magic spell or something. That'll at least explain why I have no memory of how I came to the woods."

There was silence, before Boromir said. "I hope you find what you seek, Kayla." I glanced at him; his voice had changed. He sounded genuine, but also a bit sad.

"Thank you," I said, my voice gentle. "With any luck I'll be able to go home soon, and see my family. If they're still alive."

Boromir nodded, his face a mixture of emotions I could not read. "You must, of course. They will be missing you dearly, I am certain." His voice held something, but I couldn't think about it now. My mind was on my family again.

It made sense, really, that my family might be dead. The fact I was supposedly from Bree-Land, and that the Nazgûl had managed to infiltrate into the Shire, meant that people in Bree-Land would have been killed, like the doorman in Bree, and possibly the innkeeper at The Prancing Pony. If, for whatever reason, I couldn't get home, I could always fake my family's deaths, and remain in Minas Tirith, or somewhere nearby. I could get a job as a housemaid, or even work in a tavern, or...

I had to stop myself there. If I started to think about what might happen to me if I couldn't get home, I would start crying again. I _had_ to get home; I _had_ to. It was impossible that I had made it here, with no possible way of getting back. The logistics there were just impossible, right? I would spend hours, days even, within that library, reading everything I possibly could about everything I possibly could, _and I would find a way home_. This I vowed.

I had to.

I was jolted out of my thoughts, when Boromir suddenly stopped riding. I pulled my horse to a stop, patting her neck, and whispering words of comfort to her as she tossed her head in annoyance about the sudden stop. I looked over at Boromir, my eyebrow raised in confusion.

"You alright?" He was a ways ahead of me, up a small hill, with his back to me. He was staring at something, and I gently nudged my horse forward, up the hill, to be beside him. She shimmied to the side, as I held the reins, forcing me to look at him as I approached.

"Boromir, what's going on?" I asked, reaching towards him, as he stared, transfixed, at whatever was before us. I followed his gaze, still confused. When I finally saw what he was looking at, my jaw dropped.

 _Minas Tirith_.

Even at a distance, it took the breath right out of my body. I could see it, glowing like a beacon of white and silver, nestled into the mountainside. I could see the White Tower of Ecthelion, rising high into the sky, and see the shimmers of pearl and silver in the morning light. Below it, small farmlands dotted the area, and the gates of Minas Tirith stretched far into it. I knew that, at this moment, this was the first time I was actually glad I had come to Middle Earth. This. Minas Tirith. This was the only reason I was glad. Never again would I see such a sight in all my years, I was certain. When I finally got to enter the city, I wasn't sure I wouldn't faint. My eyes travelled over the sight, over the fields, grasslands, and rock. To the left of the White City, I could see the Pelennor Fields, and farther, the ruins of Osgiliath, and beyond that...

 _Mordor_.

My heart was in my mouth almost immediately. How the people of Gondor stomached looking at that place each day from their windows, I would never know. Black cloud clung to the sky, which was a deep red, crimson like blood, and glowed like fire. I couldn't see the Eye of Sauron from here, but I knew it was somewhere in there, plotting. It gave me chills, looking at that horrible place. It hurt my heart to know that, in time, Frodo and Sam would be entering into that awful place, if they hadn't already.

I came back down to Middle Earth, when Boromir began to ride, his eyes on his home. We didn't speak, and I didn't think we needed to. He was ready to go home, and I wasn't about to delay him any longer. We rode down the hills, our horses' legs exploding out from beneath them, taking us towards the capital of Gondor at breakneck speed. The wind whipped my hair and stung my eyes, but I didn't care. I wanted to be within the city walls probably almost as badly as Boromir did, but for very different reasons.

As we approached the city, I began to hear something in the distance. It sounded like music, coming from over the city walls. Minas Tirith towered above us as we drew nearer and, as I predicted, my breath was again taken from me. It was even more terrifyingly impressive up close. As we rode into the shadow of the great tower, Boromir slowed his horse, his face concerned and confused. The music was growing louder now, and we both came to a slow walk on our horses.

"Do you hear that?" I asked, my voice was calm, but I began to feel nervous, and I didn't know why.

He nodded, but did not speak. We came to a stop just by the gates. The soldiers guarding it began to walk towards us, but it would be another thirty seconds before they reached us. That was when we heard it. The voice. It sent chills up my spine, and I was certain it did the same for Boromir.

It was the voice of a young woman, or perhaps many young women, all singing in pure harmony, their voices clear as crystal, carrying over the walls of the great city. As their voices reached us, I could make out words, if faintly.

 _Through_ _Rohan_ _over fen and field where the long grass grows  
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes._ _  
'What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?_ _  
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?_ _'_

My blood ran cold, and I whirled to face Boromir, who's face was a white as the city itself. "It's about you; they're singing about you!" The voices continued to sing as we looked at each other, stricken with shock. "Boromir, why are they singing about you? Did they know we were coming?"

He looked afraid now, for the first time since I had met him. "They did not."

"Then why are they singing of your return?" I was so confused. If they didn't know we were coming, why would they sing as we rode up?

What Boromir said next made my blood run cold. "They do not sing of my return, Kayla. This is a lament. They sing of my death."

 _O, Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar,_

 _But you came not from the empty lands where no men are._

I stared at him, real terror gripping me. "What? But that's impossible, you're alive!"

He was nodding, but his eyes didn't see me. "I know."

"This must be a mistake," I was saying, as I wheeled my horse to face the guards, who were nearly upon us now. "We'll tell them, and it'll all be sorted. Just wait." The soldiers were here now, looking up at us both. They were clad in the shining grey armor of Gondor, with pointed helmets, and the white tree embroidered on their tabards.

"Who are you, why do you come to Minas Tirith?"

I squared my shoulders. What I was about to do was probably really stupid, but I had to do something. Boromir was in shock, and being weirdly useless, so I was going to have to take control now. Time to use my bitch-tone.

"I am Kayla of Bree-Land and, unless you are both blind, accompanying me is Lord Boromir of Gondor, son to Denethor, Steward of Gondor." The guards looked a bit taken aback by my attitude, so I pressed on quickly. "Why do they sing of his death from the city? As you can see, he is alive and well, and wanting to return home to his people. What is the meaning of this?" I stopped now, since Boromir shifted next to me, and I didn't want to take this too far, lest it land me in trouble. It seemed to work, however, because the guards were now staring in real terror and shock at Boromir, who was now looking down at them, his grey-green eyes steely.

"Lord Boromir? Is it truly you?" The shorter soldier removed his helmet, revealing a young man, close to my own age, with wavy black hair, and green eyes.

Boromir's face cracked in a mirthless smile. "Hello, Aemon, it has been some time." No sooner had be spoke, did both soldiers drop to their knee, saluting Boromir in respect.

"Forgive us, Lord Boromir," babbled the one called Aemon. "W-we had news of your death weeks ago," he looked back up at us, "from your brother, Captain Faramir."

Boromir paled, his face a mixture of confusion and surprise. "Faramir said I was dead?"

Aemon nodded fervently, "He did, my Lord, when he returned to the city from a hunt. He carried the Horn of Gondor, cleaved in two. He believed you to be dead, and sent word to your father. He demanded a lament be sung for you each day, until his pain subsided."

Realization dawned on Boromir's face, and he looked at me. I also knew what they meant, and how this could have happened, but we needed to speak with Faramir at once, to sort it all out.

"The horn," I said, closing my eyes in exasperation, as Boromir turned back to Aemon and the other soldier.

"I would speak with my brother immediately. Where is he?"

"His office, my Lord," Aemon stammered, before turning to the other soldier. "Arin, go and get Captain Faramir; bring him to the courtyard." He turned back to us, "You must understand, Lord Boromir, we heard rumors of your presence at Helm's Deep, but they were only rumors. In addition, your father would not believe anyone who told him otherwise of your supposed death, so we had to continue to assume." Boromir held up a hand to stop him from speaking of it. Aemon turned pink, and said stiffly, "In the meantime, please allow our stable master to stable your horses, and I will escort you and your," his green eyes found my dark ones, and I gave a somewhat apologetic smile for my earlier rudeness, to which he timidly returned, "companion to the courtyard personally."

"Thank you, Aemon, it is appreciated." Boromir said stiffly, as we climbed down from the horses. We handed them over to the stable hand, and followed Aemon into the city.

Minas Tirith was _amazing_. It was as incredible inside the walls, as the outside was. There were shops, inns, and people dressed in grey running around everywhere. The walls, steps, ground, and buildings were all marble and stone and, despite the urgency of the current situation, I found myself staring in awe as I hurried along behind Aemon and Boromir. I told myself that, after this was all settled, I would have to do some exploring, before I went to the library. It wasn't every day that I got to see Minas Tirith in the _flesh_ , so to speak.

It took maybe half an hour of arduous walking and climbing up the steps of Minas Tirith, until we finally reached the courtyard. I was totally out of breath, and gasping like an idiot, probably drenched in sweat and sadness when we finally came to the White Tree.

It really was as freaky as I thought it would be. Within the courtyard of stone, stood the huge thing, with a trunk thicker around than my own body, and gnarled branches that reached towards the blue-grey sky above. It looked like it hadn't had a proper water in decades, and the bark looked withered and pained. It had an ominous feel to it, and I shied away from it a bit as we walked up. Boromir noticed my staring in somewhat fear at the tree, and I felt his hand place itself on my shoulder for a brief moment, before Aemon spoke again.

"Captain Faramir will be along any moment, my Lord."

Boromir nodded, placing his hand on Aemon's shoulder, "You are a good lad, Aemon, thank you."

"If I may, my Lord, I am glad you have returned. It is a relief to know you did not perish in the Anduin River as we thought."

Boromir nodded again, though I could see the pain in his face. "As am I." Aemon nodded again, a smile on his face, and he turned on his heel, walking back towards the steps that led down into the city. Once we were alone, I turned to Boromir.

"Boromir, I – " I began, but I was cut off by someone yelling.

" _Boromir!_ " We both whirled around just in time to see a man fly out of no where, embracing Boromir in a stone-like grip. I heard Boromir grunt as the air was knocked out of him, and I had to supress a giggle. When the two broke apart, I had to do a double take.

The man now holding Boromir at arm's length looked like he could be his twin, but a few years younger. He had green-hazel eyes, rather than green-grey like Boromir's, and his hair was longer and wavier, but he had the same unmistakable nose, lips, jaw and eye-shape of his older brother. Faramir, Ranger Captain of Gondor, and little brother to Boromir.

"Faramir," Boromir said, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. I realized that, when Boromir had originally left to attend the Council of Elrond, he had probably figured he would never see his brother, or his home again. And now, perhaps a year later, here he was: home and with his family. I felt my eyes sting with emotion and joy for him.

"Brother, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you. My heart will burst with joy," Faramir sounded close to tears, as he drew Boromir in for another embrace. The brothers gripped each other tightly for another moment, and it was only when I accidentally sneezed that they broke apart. Faramir's eyes fell on me, and they were filled with kindness and warmth. "And who is your companion, brother?" He approached me, placed his right hand over his heart, and bowed lightly to me. "I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor, my Lady. My apologies for my outburst, but I am certain you understand.

I forced a smile, my mind still reeling from it all. "I do; it's alright." I sounded to damn feeble, it was laughable.

Boromir turned to face us both. "Brother, may I present Kayla of Bree-Land and, at one time, saviour of my life." I felt my face explode in heat as Faramir stared in awe between us, a huge smile forming on his face. Any bigger at his cheeks would crack, surely.

"You? You are the one who saved Boromir's life?" I threw Boromir a look, and saw his lips twitching in a smile.

I fumbled for words. "N-no, I just, that is, um, I came upon him while I was traveling the forest, and he was in the midst of a battle against the Uruk-hai, and..."

"And she saved my life. She distracted their leader before he was able to deal the killing blow." Boromir finished, his eyes on me again. I felt my heart flutter lightly.

"But it was Aragorn who initially saved him. He stopped the bleeding, and then we went to Edoras, where the healers did the rest of the work." I babbled, trying to take the conversation away from me. Boromir seemed to want to add, but I spoke over him. "Why did you think Boromir was dead?"

Faramir's face turned grave. "I must say first, thank you for helping my brother. You are a friend to him, and therefore a friend of Gondor." I smiled slightly, and he continued by answering my question. "As you were told by Aemon, I'm sure, I found the Horn of Gondor in a boat on the Anduin River, brother." So, the boat that had contained the broken and unneeded weapons, that had been what he found. Damn. Faramir turned back to Boromir now, his face grim. "It was cleaved in two." His eyes looked pained, and I was sure he was reliving the pain he had felt on that day.

"I was at Helm's Deep, Faramir," Boromir said, his voice flat, his eyes pained and also angry. "How could you be so foolish to tell father I had perished from merely a broken horn?"

Faramir looked down, clearly ashamed. "We had no concrete evidence at the time, Boromir. And I did not tell father you were dead." He looked back up at Boromir. "Brother, father has... Not been himself, since he learned of your "fate"."

A dark silence fell, and I looked at Boromir, who looked worried now. "What do you mean, "father has not been himself", Faramir? And if you did not tell him I was dead, then who did?"

Faramir sighed, "Father concocted it himself. With the evidence of your broken horn, he assumed you to be dead. He announced to the city, and demanded a lament. No matter how many times I told him we had no evidence regarding your life or death, and no matter the rumors of your presence in Rohan, he still believed that you perished."

"Well couldn't Rohan just tell him otherwise?" I cut in, annoyance filling me. The brothers looked at me, and Faramir nodded slowly.

"One would believe so, but our father has such a distaste for Rohan, that he refused to send a message, even if it meant confirming you to be alive," the last part was spoken to Boromir, who nodded slowly. "And, not to mention when the wizard, Gandalf, came here, it only added to father's madness." That was right, Gandalf and Pippin were here. I had almost forgotten.

"But surely Gandalf must've said something?" I said in disbelief. "He's seen Boromir; spoken to him, as has Pippin."

"Both the wizard and the Halfling attempted to make my father see reason, but he could not. I spoke with Gandalf, and the Halfling, and they assured me you yet lived. I have been waiting for three days you to return, brother. The soldiers questioned my sanity, as father did many times, but I held true to what I knew to be right." So that explained, Aemon's terror upon seeing Boromir again. The soldiers had no choice but to listen to Denethor. After all, he did rule Gondor at the moment. Kind of.

"This may seem cruel to say, but your father sounds like he's lost his mind." I said sadly, looking from Boromir to Faramir, who both nodded solemnly.

Faramir spoke again, "It would seem so," his tone then changed to joy again, and he looked upon his brother. "But now you are here, and well, and father will be able to see you, and all will be behind us. No more laments, no more pain, no more uncertainty." He gripped his brother's arm, who smiled down at him.

I shook my head, mumbling out loud. "I'm still amazed that, after months of Boromir being in Rohan, that Denethor didn't know he was alive. He is the Steward, I guess, and he has a say in how the city is run, and how they mourn, but..." I trailed off, my eyes going between them again.

Boromir's gaze rested on me, "If what you say is true, and my father has lost his mind..." He trailed off too, and I could see the pain building in his features.

Faramir quickly took over. "You must speak with him, brother. He is within the throne room, as he always is. I will take you to him." He turned to me now, "Lady Kayla, I thank you again, from the most deepest place in my heart, for bringing my brother home safely, and for saving his life." I wanted to protest that last bit again, but thought it better not do. Instead, I just smiled, which Faramir returned. He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezed once, and added, "I will send for someone to escort to you a room, preferably one nearby the wizard and the Halfling."

"Thank you, Captain Faramir," I said politely, inclining my head in respect, to which he nodded, smiling.

Faramir turned to Boromir, "Come, brother, I will take you to father, and when that it settled, you should get some well deserved rest. We will eat to your health, tonight." He began to walk away, but Boromir lingered, his eyes on me.

"Kayla," he started to say, taking a step forwards. We had been in each other's company for days now, and after what had almost happened this morning, I wasn't too eager to be parted from him just yet, either. At least, I figured that was why he was lingering. Or maybe I hoped. I don't know. I forced a smile on my face.

"Go," I said gently, touching his arm. "Your father needs you; I'll see you tonight." I gave him a quick, one armed squeeze-hug, and stepped away, smiling. He looked at me, nodded once, and turned to follow his brother towards the throne room, his cape billowing behind him.

I watched him go, and took a deep breath in. In the distance, I saw a guard approaching me, probably one who would lead me to my quarters. Despite it all, despite all the pain, emotions, and worry I felt, I knew the first thing I was going to do when I got to my room.

I was having a fucking bath.

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 **A/N:** **So, that was longer than I thought it would be. I hope you all like it. I have plans for the next chapter that will be depressing, probably. R &R, please!**


	19. The Steward

**A/N:** **This is short; more to come!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Nineteen:**

 **The Steward**

The first thing I noted about the room I was given was how vast it was. Back in Edoras, I had shared a room with Bera, and it had been nice, but no where near as nice as this one. I may as well have been a Lady of Gondor, given how damn fancy this thing was, and by God, did I feel special.

The ceilings were high, higher than any I had seen in Middle Earth. They were made of marble and stone, arcing above in in a curve as they reached the middle, and there hung a chandelier, decked in white candles, all lit, and glowing glamorously. It gave the room a soft light, almost pale gold, rather than the intense orange of Edoras, or the stark brightness of the sun when I had slept outside. There was a bed in the middle of the room, covered in silver sheets, and probably a twin in my world. There was a simple, white table, with two, high-back, white chairs, and a stone bowl of clear water, with nothing within. I wondered if, at a time, the white flowers of the Tree of Gondor had rested within.

The rest of the room was pretty sparse. There was a chest at the foot of the bed, and a balcony which overlooked Minas Tirith, as well as the Pelennor Fields, across to Osgiliath, and through to Mordor. I moved to the window to look, and a shiver ran through me as my eyes came to rest upon the distant red glow.

A voice made me turn. The guard who had escorted me here had spoken to me, and I hadn't heard him. "I'm sorry?" I said, giving him a polite smile. "My mind was elsewhere."

He nodded once. I could only make out certain features of his face behind his helmet. It covered his nose and forehead, leaving only his eyes, mere slits between the metal, and mouth visible. He seemed kind enough, if a little stoic.

"I was only saying that a maid would be along in a moment with water for a bath, m'lady." I nodded once giving him a smile of gratitude, and he saluted, before turning on his heel, and walking out of the room.

No sooner had he left, did I return to the window, and moved to the balcony. I stood, my hands resting on the surprisingly cool marble of the stonework, looking out over the White City. I would not deny it: this was something I had yearned for, for years. To be able to gaze out over a city I had only even dreamed of actually seeing, was absolutely insane, and it was _real_. Well, real to me anyway. I still hadn't ruled out that this was all some kind of overly fucked up dream, and at any moment I would wake up, in a tangled mass of bedsheets, yearning for a world that was not my own.

I began to feel a migraine coming on, suddenly, and my hand moved to my eye where it rested. I sighed; it had been a few weeks since my last migraine, and I did not relish in them being few and far between. I ought to drink some water, I figured and turned to go back inside, to drink from the silver pitcher that had been left on the bedside table, complete with a silver goblet. However, just as I was turning away, a voice came sailing through the wind.

"Kayla! Is that you?"

I paused, looking around. I recognized that voice, but it had sounded like it came from above me slightly. I turned back to the balcony, looking around for its source. Just as I was about to give up, the voice came again.

"Kayla, up here!"

I looked up and, sure enough, I found the source of the voice. I saw a golden, curly head poking out above the balcony above me, and recognized the gleeful face of none other than Peregrin Took, also known as…

"Pippin!" I cried out happily. I saw the hobbit raise a single finger, gesturing for me to wait, before his tousled head disappeared from view. I felt a smile tug at my mouth, as I turned around, my eyes on the door. Not thirty seconds later, the door flew open, and in a flash of black and silver (the colour of Pippin's tunic) the Halfling had be around the middle in a tight hug, even for someone of his size.

" _Oof!_ " I grunted as he slammed into my midriff. "It's good to see you too, Pippin." I patted his head, smiling fondly down at him.

He pulled away, grinning up at me. "Does this mean you and Boromir are here?" When I nodded, still smiling, his smile grew bigger. "Does that mean he's gone to see his father?"

My brows creased together. "He has," I said, my tone grave, and Pippin's face changed to worry. "Faramir told us that you and Gandalf tried to reason with him about Boromir's whereabouts, but he wouldn't listen." Pippin stepped back, looking sad. I gestured to the little table, and we adjourned to it, seating ourselves in its chairs.

"We tried to explain to Denethor that Boromir was alive; that he fought at Helm's Deep, and that he was on his way here, as you were." Pippin fiddled with a tassel on his tunic, looking upset. "Gandalf even shouted at him."

"I bet that was terrifying," I quipped, and Pippin looked up, and a small smile flitted across his face, before he was all serious again.

"It was," he admitted, "and painful to see. He may not be a kind man, but he is still Boromir's father." Pippin looked up at me, "You care about Boromir, surely you must understand where I'm coming from?"

I felt my face flush, and mumbled, "I care about him as much as any of us do, that is correct. He's with his father now, hopefully all this ridiculousness can be put to rest within the hour."

Pippin looked as though he wanted to say something else, when there was a knock on the door, and a young woman entered, flanked by two other woman, both carrying a huge basin of steaming water. The first young woman carried what looked like soap, a towel, and a change of clothes and shoes. Upon seeing both Pippin and I, she stopped dead.

"My apologies, my lady, I did not know you had visitors. I have brought hot water and a change of clothes, as you requested." She dropped her head in a nod of respect, and I sighed inwardly. I still wasn't used to being called "My Lady", but now that I was in Gondor, and they all seemed to know that I had once saved Boromir's life (or prevented his death in this case), I was going to have to get used to be addressed in such a way.

Pippin stood first, turning to me. "I'll be going now, Kayla. I'll see you tonight for the feast!" He beamed up at me, his face returning to his earlier demeanour, just glad that we were here.

"Word travels fast, it seems," I said dryly, though a smile touched my lips. "I'll see you tonight." Pippin waved farewell, and scurried passed the maids, who then brought the basin into the room, placed my clean clothing on the bed, and bid me well. I was now alone in my room, with fresh clothes, and a bath waiting for me.

I stripped down, tossing my old, dirty Rohan clothing onto the floor, and removed my shoes and undergarments. The maids had brought me fresh ones of those, as well, thankfully. I took the soap, oils I supposed were meant to clean my hair, and the towel. It had been months since my last proper bath, and I had had to make do with quick scrub downs in the same wooden basin Aedre had let me use on my first night in Edoras, what seemed like an age ago. I wasn't dirty, or gross, or anything, but I was glad for the clean clothes, and fresh bath water, for sure.

Bathing in Gondor was certainly better than in Edoras. The floor was spotless, unlike the hay and dirt in Edoras. Not that I could complain. The people of Rohan had been more than hospitable during my time there, and I would be eternally grateful to them, if I ever made it home. Here, however, I could relish in the luxury of a nice, clean bath.

The basin I was using was bigger than the one in Edoras, and was much more like a small bathtub, rather than a crate. There was even another pitcher on the floor, filled with boiled water, should I need more to warm up. I was grateful for it; immensely so.

I sank into the tub, hissing as the hot water (yes, _hot_ ; I can't express how glad I was of that) hit my breasts and chest. It hurt, but it also felt so good. It felt like years since my last hot shower, or hot bath for that matter. I was going to soak this all up, for lack of a better pun.

I allowed myself to soak for about ten minutes, until I began to feel pruny, and my muscles ached less. I then washed myself, cleaned my hair, shaved with my still hidden razor which, amazingly, still worked, and climbed out of the tub. I didn't really know what to do with the tub, but I figured that, if I left with the door open, the maids would come back and dispose of it. I hoped I wasn't being rude by leaving it here. Well, I'd find out, I guessed.

I dressed in the grey and silver dress provided for me; it was a stark contrast to the brown one I had gotten used to wearing over the last few months. This one was softer to the touch; it felt like cotton, or perhaps cashmere. Realistically, it was probably cashmere, as it was made of goats, and the surrounding farmlands had plenty who could be spared, surely. It was much more form fitting then the one of Rohan, and had tighter sleeves, and a tighter bodice, accentuating my waist, breasts, and hips. I didn't like it. I felt too over exposed. I made a mental reminder to ask a tailor, or maid, or whoever, for a dress in a bigger size, so I would look less like a common barmaid, or a ho.

I grabbed my cloak, and threw it over my shoulders, so as to hide how much the dress "showed me off", and left my room. By now, Boromir would surely be finished speaking with his father, and I wanted to see if all had been sorted. That, and find the library. There were still several hours before this "feast", and the more I could research on how to get home, the better. I wanted to get a head start as soon as possible.

I walked down the hall, passing a few maids and guards, who all acknowledged and/or saluted to me. I tried to give them all smiles, but I was still feeling rather awkward. I ended up scurrying past them all, and into the courtyard, whereupon I saw Faramir and Boromir exiting the throne room a ways away from me. I felt a smile pass across my face. All would be resolved now, and they'd be able to plan their next move, and perhaps Denethor would be less of a dick this time around.

I moved to stand next to the White Tree again, where we had parted, patiently waiting to catch the brothers as they approached. They didn't seem to notice me standing there, probably looking like an idiot, so I opted to approach them myself. As they got closer, I began to walk forwards, smiling. I made a beeline for them, and Boromir, who was slightly ahead of his brother, walking rather quickly.

"How did it go? Is everything sorted?" I asked warmly, fixing him with a kind smile.

To my surprise, Boromir walked right passed me, without so much as a small glance at my face as he did. His head was bowed slightly, so I couldn't make out his face, but I immediately could tell something was wrong. I twisted my body to follow his movements as he moved passed me.

"Boromir?" My voice sounded so feeble. When he didn't turn around, I called louder. "Boromir!" He didn't even look over his shoulder. He was gone in a billow of cloak and leather, away down the stairs, and into the entrance to a guard tower, the door slamming shut behind him. I whirled to face Faramir, who had come to a slow stop beside me. "What the hell happened in there?" I demanded, my face full of worry, I was sure.

Faramir looked pained; more pained that he had before, if that was even possible. He just shook his head, and turned his green-hazel gaze upon me. I could see the sadness in his eyes that ached for his brother, and I suddenly knew.

"He didn't know him, did he?" I whispered, hoping my fears would not be confirmed. To my dismay, Faramir nodded sadly.

"He did not," His voice was thick with emotion, something his brother tended to lack at the best of times. "When I brought Boromir before our father, he did not know him. He looked him in his face, and there was no love there. There was nothing there."

I felt my heart break for him, for Boromir, and even a little for Denethor. "Faramir, I am so sorry." I whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Truly, I am." I looked back over my shoulder to where Boromir had gone, before looking back at Faramir. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

The younger Gondorian shook his head again, seating himself on the stone that encircled the White Tree. "None that I can see, no. Father had an outburst upon seeing Boromir. He accused us of trying to deceive him with evil magic, conjured by the wizard." Denethor blamed Gandalf for this? Wow, the man really had lost his mind. "He said he had no sons." That got my attention. I looked down at Faramir, my heart shattering anew. This poor man; this poor man had been through so much already, and to hear that Denethor basically felt he had no sons, despite Faramir being alive and well, had probably utterly destroyed him inside.

I sat beside him, my hand on his shoulder again. "I am so sorry, Faramir. I wish I could help, somehow…" I felt tears sting my eyes, and I blinked them back. Faramir looked at my out of the corner of his eye.

"But you have, Lady Kayla," when I gave him a confused look, he said, "You brought my brother home safely to us; you saved his life." I could hear the gratitude in his voice, and all I could do was give him a small smile in return. He stood then, offering his hand to me to help me up, which I took. "I expect my brother will wish to remain alone for a time, but if you wish to speak with him, I do no think it would do any harm. He seems to enjoy your company."

I felt my face flush, and Faramir smiled a bit. I changed the subject quickly. "Where is your father now?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

Faramir sighed again, his face turning sad again. "He had been… Taken by the healers to his chambers, and will remain there until Boromir and I may discuss what is to become of this." I nodded, not wanting to pry more. This was a family matter, and I wasn't family. "The feast will still occur this evening, of course, and our father will unfortunately be unable to attend." His tone was final, if sad.

We parted ways there, and Faramir returned to his office, and I was left alone in the courtyard. I looked between the direction of my room, and where Boromir had run off to several times, before finally deciding to go after him. He had comforted me more times than I could I could count, and I felt that I owed it to him, in a sense.

I darted across the courtyard, and through the door to the guard tower that Boromir had entered. Inside, I found a large spiral staircase, leading up to what I assumed was a lookout point. It was empty, thankfully, so no guards were around to question as so why I was in there. I moved to the bottom of the stairs, looking up, straining my eyes to see if Boromir was up there. I thought I saw a shadow move, and decided it was worth potentially accidentally stumbling upon a guard, rather than Boromir.

I began to ascend the stairs slowly, as to not draw attention to myself. It took me a solid two minutes of quiet, careful climbing before I reached the top. What I found made my heart nearly shatter a third time.

Boromir stood before me, his back to me, hunched over the railing to the guard tower. His cloak was tossed aside like an unwanted toy, and his shoulders were so hunched I couldn't see his face, but I could hear him. I could hear the soft, bitter sobs of a broken man.

Back home, Alzheimer's was a very real disease, that many, many people suffered from. When someone you loved and cared for your whole life, suddenly stops knowing who you are… I could only imagine the internal devastation that caused a person. Here was Boromir, living a nightmare I had always prayed never happened to me.

I took a small step forward. "Boromir?" I whispered, my voice soft and timid.

He didn't even turn around when he spoke. "He did not know me."

I felt my heart ache again. "I'm so sorry, Boromir."

I heard a soft, bitter sigh. "He looked into my face, and spoke my name, but he did not know me." I heard a sniff. "My own father." He turned to face me now, and I could see how red his eyes were, and see how broken he looked. I had never seen Boromir look so vulnerable. Except perhaps when he had his nightmares. I had never expected to see him cry, ever. And yet, here he was, tears streaked on his face, his composure lost.

"Oh, Boromir," I stepped towards him, and he did not flinch. I gently held his arms, looking up at him. "I can't tell you how much my heart hurts for you." My voice caught, and I looked down and my shoes, swallowing. I blinked a few times, and looked back up at him, my eyes steely. "We'll fix this, I promise."

He exhaled, looking away, and stepping back, forcing me to let go of him. "How, Kayla? There is no such way." He looked so angry with the world, so betrayed by it. "If I had known of this mistake earlier… If I had come home a week earlier…"

"Don't," I said, my voice a bit angry now. "Don't you dare blame yourself." He couldn't blame himself because it was my fault. I had been the one who had asked him to go to Aldburg on our way here; to delay himself getting home. I was the one who had saved him; had caused him this pain… By keeping him alive…

"We'll find a way to make this right." I whispered, more to myself than to him. "I swear to you." I looked up at him, and I saw how broken he looked; how open. I had never seen him like this, and I hated it. I hated myself for making him like this. This was all my fault. My fault. I did this, and I had to be the one to fix it. I didn't know how I would do that, but I would fix this.

I drew Boromir down into a hug, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him into me. I ran my hand along the nape of his neck, whispering words of comfort. After a moment, I felt him wrap his arms around my waist and shoulders, drawing me in. I felt a few dry sobs wrack his body; or maybe they were my sobs. I didn't know. I just held him, murmuring to him.

"Oh, Kayla," he whispered into my hair, and I felt a shiver go up my spine. That was all he said. That was all he needed to say. I felt him squeeze me tighter, and I let him. He needed this right, and I'd be damned if I took it away from him, no matter how wrong I knew it was, and now matter how it made me feel.

"I know," I said softly back, and turned my head, so my cheek pressed into his neck, feeling his skin, letting him know that I was real, and that he was not lost as he had been. "You are strong, Boromir, don't ever doubt or forget that. You have come through so much. Don't let this defeat you." I felt him nod slowly in response, and we carefully broke apart.

He looked down at me, still torn up, but less so than before, I think. "I would be alone now, Kayla, if I may." I nodded quickly. He forced a smile, placed his hand on my shoulder for a moment, and I took that as my queue to leave. As I came to the stairs, he called after me. "I hope to see you the evening at the feast, despite all this." I turned back, giving him my best reassuring smile, despite feeling like my insides were going to drown me from within.

"I'll be there, I promise." That seemed to satisfy him, and I descended the stairs, leaving him to his thoughts, and grief.

He would be calm soon; he was never down for long. This was a momentary lapse. And then we would make plans, and find a way to make this easier on him. I owed him that.

I owed him everything.

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 **A/N:** **Feast is coming! Wanted some depressing stuff first. This was short; more to come! Stay tuned!**


	20. A Feast of Stone and Marble

**A/N:** **Okay, it's been a LONG time since I last updated, and I am so, so sorry! I moved back home for the summer, and have been so busy since returning, that I have neglected this poor, little story! My life also changed dramatically, so I have been getting used to the new changes, and I needed to take some time for myself. However, all you wonderful people are still reading, reviewing, and asking me to update! That, and this guy is a year old now! Who knew I'd ever get this far. Happy days. Anyway, thank you to everyone who has been so supportive for the last year, and as a reward, here is chapter twenty!**

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter** **Twenty**

 **A Feast of Stone and Marble**

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I hadn't had my hair done in months. I mean, _really_ done. Yes, I had put it up in a pathetic excuse for a bun, ponytail, or whatever, but I hadn't actually had someone else taking my hair, and actually styling it in what felt like ages. Now, here I was, seated on a surprisingly comfortable stool, while one of the women who worked within the palace in Minas Tirith was studying my mess of hair, contemplating on how it should be styled for the feast that evening. I had tried to tell her that that wasn't necessary, but she had insisted.

"You will be in the company of Lord Boromir, my lady," She said plainly, overlooking my meek protests, "As well as Captain Faramir. How fortunate it is that his brother has returned safely." She played with a lock of my dark hair, "Gondor is in your debt, Lady Kayla." I pursed my lips at the use of the term "Lady", and also at her comment about being in my debt.

I knew that everyone really was grateful that I had managed to bring Boromir back to Minas Tirith not only alive, but relatively unharmed, but I really didn't like everyone telling me how grateful they were. All I had done was stupidly throw a rock at a huge monster, and accidentally prevent a death that was meant to happen in the story itself. Not a big deal, right? Right. I was going to keep telling myself that. Maybe it would eventually make me feel better.

"Gondor isn't in my debt," I mumbled as the woman began to collect various items she'd use to pin my unruly hair back off my face. "Boromir is a skilled warrior, and I had a lucky shot." I heard her exhale in an almost laugh, and I glanced up, watching her reflection in the mirror.

"Of course, my lady." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as she came back to stand behind me, taking a brush to my hair, and I winced as it was yanked through, making that familiar ripping noise as knots came undone. "Which dress will you be wearing tonight?" She spoke again, and gestured behind her, and my eyes followed her gaze through the mirror, noting the two dresses she had laid down on my bed. I felt a stir of uncomfortableness in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't royalty; I wasn't even a proper lady – I shouldn't be choosing from dresses, or having my hair done. I should be in the library, reading books on how the hell to get back home, not attending parties.

I felt my face flush with colour. "I can just wear the one I wore today, it's really nice." I heard her sigh, and I dropped my gaze, feeling stupid. It was when I felt her hand on my shoulder that I looked up to see her watching me with, surprisingly, kind eyes.

"My lady," she began, her voice kind, as well, "Lord Boromir and Captain Faramir have requested your presence tonight, as well as the wizard Gandalf. You would be remiss if you did not attend."

I stared up at her, and then looked back in the mirror at my pale reflection in the glass. I chewed my lower lip, and looked back up at her. "I'm no lady; I'm not noble, and I shouldn't be picking between two dresses." I let out a nervous laugh, and the woman actually smiled, before patting my shoulder in gentle sympathy.

"This is new to you, I can tell, my lady. However, if I may speak out of term, were I in your place, I would relish a moment to be able to attend a feast in Minas Tirith as a guest." She had a small smile on her face, and I felt a stab of guilt.

I was being so selfish and stupid. Boromir was finally home, and he was with his family, albeit his father acting crazy. This was a big deal for Gondor, and for his home, to have him back. That, and despite me being awkward about it, the people would probably want to meet the woman who had supposedly "saved his life", rather than prevent his death as I had actually done. I let out my breath in a _whoosh_ , and looked back at the two dresses on the bed. One was a deep grey, like a storm, with silver trim, and a white lace beneath the bodice. The other was a dark lavender, with grey undertones, and pale grey ribbon going up the back. Both were equally lovely. I looked back in the mirror at myself. The woman, who had been working on my hair as we had spoken, had managed to successfully pin my hair back off my hair, in the kind of French twist hairstyle, leaving some of my bangs hanging. Given that my hair was _much_ shorter than how women normally wore it in this world, I was impressed. I admired her handiwork, a little smile on my face, as she did the same, but her smile much wider. I peeked at her through my fringe of bangs, feeling suddenly very shy.

"The lavender dress, please."

She smiled again, and moved to gather up the dress for me, and helped me get dressed. It fit a bit more snug than any other dress I had worn in Middle Earth, but I could still breathe, thankfully. At least corsets weren't too common, yet, and I didn't have to try to squeeze myself into one, fearing that I'd pass out due to lack of oxygen at any point during the evening. When she had finished, the woman then bid me farewell, and I was left to my own devices while I waited to descend for the feast.

I decided that it may be best to arrive slightly after it started, in order to not draw too much attention to myself. I wanted to slip in while it was busy, so I could just observe, since I was a huge introvert, and preferred it that way. That, and if Boromir spotted me early on, he may feel inclined to speak with me, rather than speak with his old friends. Or maybe not. Maybe he wouldn't even notice I was there.

I felt my brows crease together, and I stomped that thought dead in my head. I wasn't going to allow myself to have such stupid thoughts. Tonight wasn't about me; tonight was about Boromir, and his return to his home, and his people. I would remain in the shadows, as I should be, and as I preferred, and he would be able to again feel like he was safe, and that would make me happy. Maybe I would try to find Pippin, and hang out with him for the evening.

After some time of quiet contemplation, I began to hear music in the distant, clinging to the wind that blew through the open window of my room, and voices filled the air. I heard laughter and cheers, and I knew that the feast had begun. I gathered up my wits, and exited my room, wandering down the stairs towards the door that led to the courtyard. I pushed the door open, and slipped outside into the cool night air. I scurried down the path along the wall of the great keep, and made for the noise of voices and music, as well as the warm glow of the bonfires. The feast was being held outside, so that even the commoners would be able to feel as though they could join in. Everyone wanted to celebrate Boromir's return; he was well loved by all. I rounded the corner, and stopped dead.

The courtyard was _packed_. Like rave party at an outdoor festival packed.

There were people everywhere, talking, laughing, singing, and drinking. The air smelled of mead, smoke, and cooked meat, as well as spices and the white flowers that littered the ground, and were hung from the spires. It was so loud, louder than I expected, but not unbearably so. It was so unlike the feasts and parties I had gotten used to in Rohan. Boromir hadn't been kidding: Gondor definitely partied differently.

Speaking of Boromir, I could see him amidst the crowds of people, near the middle, lit up by the great, glowing fire. He had a huge smile on his face, unlike any I had ever seen before, and it warmed my heart. His grey-green eyes crinkled in the corners as he threw back his head laughing, while wrapping an arm around Faramir, who stood beside him. The two held mugs of mead in their hands, and were conversing happily with those around them. I felt my own little smile tug at my mouth, as I slipped to the side, grabbing a goblet of wine, before planting myself along the wall to watch, and listen to the music. Once or twice, I thought I saw Boromir scan the crowd, as though searching for something, or someone.

I took a sip of wine, watching the crowds swirl around me. A few times, someone would stop and say hello, or compliment me on my dress, to which I was very grateful, and very shy. I would simply smile and nod, or stammer a thank you. I wasn't used to being so dressed up, and I definitely wasn't used to people telling me they liked my clothes. Back home, I wore the same hoodie every day, and the same combination of top and leggings, and, of course, my sneakers. This was all real foreign, and I didn't know yet if I was enjoying it or not.

Okay, maybe I was enjoying it a little bit.

A voice brought my out of my egocentric thoughts. "Kayla!" I looked around, before looking down, and seeing Pippin at my hip, grinning up at me. "Well, you look lovely!" He was clad in a black and silver tunic, which seemed to fit him just perfectly, and his Hobbit hair was especially curly.

"Pippin!" I downed the last of my wine, putting the goblet on a nearby table, before stooping to give him a hug. "Thanks, you look great, too! How are you?"

He shrugged, his usual smile on his face. "This is a wee bit tamer than what I am used to back in the Shire, but I am enjoying myself, yes. Are you?"

I looked around at the crowd again, "This is definitely not something I am used to. I am not someone who generally parties or enjoys large crowds. But," I added, looking down at him and winking, "I'm having fun; I did only just get here, after all." We exchanged a good-natured grin, and went back to leaning, and watching.

The music continued to play, and people continued to swirl around us. It felt like an age had passed, and I began to feel tired. The moon was getting higher in the sky as the hours (was it hours?) went by. Pippin disappeared a few times to go and get more food, or more drink, but he always came back to stand with me. We made idle chit chat, and my eyes always managed to find themselves wandering back to Boromir, who was lingering around the middle of the feast, speaking with different people, and his brother never leaving his side for even a moment.

I had had a bit more to drink than I normally did, and it had given me a bout of wicked confidence. Pippin and I had struck up a conversation with a few visiting nobles from a few towns over, and we were happily chatting away, when one of them asked me who I was. I drank the last gulp of my third glass of wine to give me that added boost I needed, before answering.

"My name is Kayla; I am a friend of Lord Boromir," I explained, "I accompanied him here when he returned home."

"Ah, is Lord Boromir courting you then, Miss Kayla?" Asked one of them, a woman who was perhaps in her mid-forties, judging by the looks of her.

Had I had wine in my mouth, or anything for that matter, I swear I would have choked on it. Instead, I started coughing, and through my spluttering, managed to say, "No! No, he is not. I am just a friend."

"Oh, Kayla, don't be so humble!" Pippin chimed in, grinning up at me. "She's the one who saved Boromir's life! She's the reason he was able to come home!" Had I had the chance, I'd have clapped my hand over his mouth, except I didn't get a chance. The moment Pippin said this, the music hit a lull, and there was a moment of silence-ish, as those words left his mouth. Not only did the people we were talking to hear what Pippin had said, but the people around us did too, and so on, and so on. Eventually, I watched as the whispers reached Boromir and Faramir, and their eyes turned in our direction.

Faramir's face broke out in a huge grin upon noticing me. "Kayla!" He strode away from his brother for the first time that evening, making his way through the crowd and up to me. When he came to a stop, he offered me his arm, "Wouldn't you join my brother and I for a moment? I believe now is the perfect time for Boromir to address the company."

Sheer panic filled me, as I realized that everyone's eyes were upon Faramir and me. I slowly took his arm, and he began to lead me through the crowd of people, towards Boromir, who stood stock still, watching us approach. I looked anywhere but at him, certain that my face was as red as the wine I had just pounded back. When we were about halfway towards him, I forced myself to meet his gaze, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

He was looking right at me, as though he had never seen my before. His eyes were slightly wide, and he looked a bit shocked. I then realized that it was probably because of how I was dressed. I had to admit, I knew that I looked pretty tonight; I could freely admit that. I felt a small, shy smile form on my face.

"You look beautiful this evening, Kayla," Faramir said gently as we approached, and I felt my face flush again. "I believe my brother agrees, considering how he has been watching you."

I swallowed, and peeked up at Faramir, "Thank you very much, Lord Faramir. That is a kind thing to say."

"I speak only the truth," he said simply, as we came to a stop by Boromir, whose eyes were still lingering on me. Faramir gently removed my arm from his, before turning to address the crowd gathered. I could hear soft whispers, and feel peoples' gazes on me. I squirmed uncomfortably, but tried to be as discreet about it as possible.

"People of Gondor," Faramir began, and his voice rang throughout the courtyard. The music in the distance stopped, and a hush fell over the crowd. "We have seen what has been perhaps the only moment of peace, and fortune, Gondor has been privilege to since the War of the Ring began." He turned to his brother, "My brother, Lord Boromir, has returned to his home, to Minas Tirith, and to his people, alive, when he was believed to have perished defending the innocent."

A cheer rose up, and it turned into a deafening roar. Applause shook the stone and marble, and the voices resonated in my chest. I felt my smile widen, and I glanced at Boromir, who was busy being clapped on his back, and his hand being shook, all the while grinning away. I felt a small laugh escape me. I had never seen him so happy; I liked it. With all the sadness and uncertainty we had faced, with his father, with Helm's Deep, with Bera… Boromir deserved to be happy right now.

"And," Faramir continued, and a hush fell over the crowd again, "my brother would not be here this day, were it not for the woman standing next to me. May I present, the Lady Kayla of Bree-Land, and saviour of my brother's life!" Faramir turned to beam down at me.

It felt like my heart had leapt into my mouth, and my stomach had turned to ash. I knew I had probably gone from red as wine, to white as snow in a manner of seconds. Another cheer rose up, but this time it was for me. I forced a smile on my face, even though I felt horrifically embarrassed. I knew that what I had done had been an amazing act of bravery, but it had also totally fucked up the plot to _The Lord of the Rings_. No one knew that, however, and it wasn't like I could just blurt that out right now, right here.

Instead, I was forced to stand there awkwardly, trying to look like this was easy for me, as I accepted handshakes, exclamations of gratitude, and a few hugs. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the grin of mirth on Boromir's face, and I wanted to smack him. I glanced at him, and felt myself smirk, as though saying, "Laugh it up, you're dead later." He saw this look, and he actually laughed. Whatever that moment we had had had been, it was over now. Everything was back to relative normal.

Faramir waited for the cheering to die down again, before he spoke. "Let us raise our cups, meals, anything, to Lord Boromir and Lady Kayla. My brother has returned, and he would have if not for this young woman." He looked between us, before raising his goblet high. "Hail!" There was a resounding chorus of "Hail!" From all across the courtyard, and perhaps even beyond. I forced a smile on my face, looking out over the crowd. My eyes found Pippin, who was grinning like a lunatic at us, and I laughed, giving him a small wave, and he waved back enthusiastically. I turned to look at Faramir, who was back to beaming at his older brother, whose eyes were on my again. We exchanged a small look and smile.

For a brief moment, I felt total peace.

* * *

The fires were out, and food was eaten, and I was exhausted. I bid goodnight to the few friends I had made at the feast, as I went back into the keep, in order to return to my room. I was only a few short paces from the door, when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, a few hairs that had come loose from my up-do tickling my nose as I did. Faramir and Boromir came into view, the younger brother supporting the older. I had to stifle a laugh. Both looked very happy, and very drunk.

"Did you both have fun?" I called down the hall, moving towards them, my eyebrow raised in amusement.

Boromir saw me first, and his face lit up, more so than it usually did, and I had to stop another burst of laughter from coming out. "Kayla," his speech was slurred, and I actually let a laugh out that time. "I did not know you were still awake."

"I got talking to Pippin," I shrugged, coming up to meet them, and taking Boromir's other arm, helping his brother walk him, and Faramir himself for all intents and purposes, down the hall towards the door to their own chambers. "For someone so small, he has a very large mouth." The two brothers both burst out laughing, and I felt myself giggling like an idiot, as well.

Faramir spoke now, slightly less slurred then Boromir, but still slurred. "Did you enjoy yourself, Kayla?" We were nearing Boromir's room now, it wasn't far from my own, or Pippin's, who was just above us.

"I did," I said with a smile at the younger brother, "Your speech was very moving, Faramir, well done." His eyes crinkled in the corners with happiness at my words, and he nodded to show his gratitude. We finally had come to Boromir's, and he disentangled himself from our arms, leaning up against the door.

"Kayla is correct, Faramir," his gazed affectionately at his brother, "Your speech touched my heart very deeply. I truly am glad to have returned home alive." When he said the last word, his eyes lingered on me, and I blushed, but smiled through it. He turned back to look at his brother. "I will bid you a good night, brother. Tomorrow, the plans for the assault on Mordor, and the battle at our borders, will begin." It was a grave note to end the evening on, but I knew Boromir was right. We may have had fun tonight, but the real threat was still out there.

Boromir turned now, his eyes lingering on me again. He opened his mouth, looking as though he wanted to say something, but then shut it. Instead, he simply said, "Good night, Kayla. I regret were not able to spend more time together this evening." I saw a small smile, and something else I could not place.

I pushed passed it, smiling up at him, very aware that Faramir was watching us with interest. "Don't worry about it; I'm just glad you've been able to come home, and have one night of fun, at least." I moved to return to bid them both goodnight, when Boromir spoke again before he retired for the evening.

"And I am glad that you accompanied me to my home, Kayla." Those were his last words; he nodded once to Faramir, and then to me, before entering his room (well, stumbling more like his) and shutting the door behind him.

I knew I was probably red in the face, again, so I quickly bid Faramir goodnight, before turning away, and scurrying down the hall to my own door. I was just about there, when Faramir, who had been walking in the same direction I was practically galloping, called after me.

"You know," he said, and I turned back to look at him. "It is a strange thing, to see my brother like this. He had changed greatly."

My hand rested on the door to my room. "The One Ring will do that to you; Boromir has been through a lot." I felt a heavy sadness tug at me. Boromir was probably a lot less happy and confident as he had been before being called away to the Council of Elrond.

Faramir nodded, looking thoughtful. He stood not far from me now. "Indeed, but that was not to what I was referring."

I blinked, confused. "What were you referring to, then?" I turned away from my door to look at him, curious now.

I saw a small smile play across the young captain's face. "In all my years by my brother's side, I have never seen him so at ease around someone, as he is around yourself, Kayla." My eyes widened, and I struggled to find the right words, but Faramir didn't give me a chance to speak. Instead, he walked right past me, stumbling a bit due to alcohol, and saying, "Good night, Kayla," over his shoulder. I could hear the amusement in his tone, but it felt like my brain was going to explode. God fucking _dammit._ I stood alone in the corridor for a moment, trying to not overthink what Faramir had just said, and failing miserably.

Eventually, I threw myself into my room, closing the door behind me, and flopped onto my bed. I buried my face in my pillow trying to not think about anything to do with a certain Gondorian Captain, or the way he had looked at me at the feast, or what his younger brother had just told me. I forced myself to get undressed, and try to take my hair out, before slipping into bed. I needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I would head to the library I had been thinking about for months and, perhaps…

I would find a way home.

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 **A/N:** **Okay, not too long, but enough? I guess? I only just got back into the vibe of this story. I apologize if any of you were expecting anything more or less in this chapter. Soon… Soon there will be fluff. Maybe. You'll have to just wait and see, won't you?**


	21. The Library of Everything and Nothing

**A/N:** **I know it's been a while since I last updated, and I am truly sorry for the delay! I have been disgustingly busy with work, and being sick as all hell, and I have had little time to game, read, and write, sadly. However, here I am, updating again. Big thank you's again to everyone who has been reviewing this story, and messaging me with questions about the story, asking for updates, and in general showing me that my story has helped a few of you, and that my readers are enjoying what I've created so far! Thank you,** _ **mellons.**_

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 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter** **Twenty-One**

 **The Library of Everything and Nothing**

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I had been staring at the ceiling for hours. The cold grey of morning filled my room, and the chilled air filled my lungs. I had been laying awake for hours now, or at least it felt like hours. I had been trying to will myself to get out of bed, and head over to the library, but I couldn't get up. I wasn't sure if it was because I was so comfortable, seeing as the bed was the best I'd slept in in all the months I had been in Middle Earth, or if it was because I was afraid to actually try to make progress in my potential return home. One on hand, if I stayed in bed, I could enjoy relaxing, maybe even get up a bit later and take a stroll through Minas Tirith, seeing the city for all it was. On the other hand, the moment I entered that library, it meant I was mentally accepting that I was ready to go home.

Was I really ready for that yet?

I shook my head, and got out of bed. I didn't have time to be worrying about this just now, I had research to do. As I sat up, my head pounded unceremoniously, and I played the heel of hand to my eye, wincing. Clearly, I had drank too much the night before, and now my head was getting the revenge it probably felt I deserved. I rubbed my temples as I stood, wishing I had some aspirin or something.

I strode across the room, throwing off my clothes as I did, pausing to look in the mirror, revelling at how much weight I had lost since coming here, and how not as pale I was now. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was still pale as hell, but not so much as before. My hair was longer, and my face was thinner. I also looked tired as hell, but I felt it look like a "worth it" tired, not a "I pulled an all-nighter because I didn't start my essay until the night before it was due". I dressed quickly, splashed some water on my face, ran a brush through my rat's nest of a head of hair, and slipped out of my room.

It was still early, and I knew I had a few decent hours of daylight before I would need to return to my room, lest I draw any unwanted attention. I scooted down the hall, doing my best to avoid eye contact with anyone who passed me. I was nearly out the door, when one nearby me suddenly opened, and someone stepped out, nearly catching me in the face with the door. I leaped back, only to come face to face with...

"Boromir?" The Gondorian turned in surprise, his grey eyes coming to rest on my face, and as they did, his face broke into a warm smile.

"Kayla," his expression was kind, and I felt my insides squirm, and I looked anywhere but at him for a moment, before composing myself enough to speak.

"How are you feeling after last night?" My tone was light, cheerful, very unlike the inner turmoil that was going on inside me. I tried to keep my face looking as collected as possible, all the while feeling more and more anxious that I was losing daylight, wanting to get to the library as possible and start my research.

His tone was easy, light hearted, and seemingly well-rested. "Quite well, and yourself?" He didn't look hungover at all, despite how evidently drunk he had been last night. I had to admit, I was jealous, given that I would be nursing my accursed headache the probably the rest of the day.

I shrugged, gently rubbing my temples again for added effect. "Well enough, just a bit of a headache." My eye twitched as I said this, and I rubbed it furiously, hating my body.

Boromir's ease changed to concern at my actions, and he stepped towards me; I nearly backed up out of sheer fear. "Do you need anything?" I knew he was trying to be helpful, but having him in this close of a proximity to me made me nearly burst into a cold sweat.

"Oh, no," I flailed my hands like an idiot. "I'll be just fine, thank you, though." I fixed that cheerful, somewhat over exaggerated smile on my lips again, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

It seemed to work, because that easy smile was back again, and I felt myself flush inadvertently. "Where are you off to?" Man, he was awfully chatty today.

"The library," I said, and as I did, his face changed again. Boromir looked thoughtful, and then perhaps even a little... Was that disappointment?

"To begin your research?" His voice was flat, but not unkind. Surely he understood that the only reason I had come with him was to go to the library, and figure out a way home, right? What else could he have expected? I tried not to dwell on it, lest I have an anxiety attack. I had to focus.

I nodded curtly, trying to keep an air of professionalism in my voice, while maintaining my usual casual attitude with him. "Yes."

Boromir was the picture of a solider again, he stood taller, and looked almost regal. I could tell that something was bothering him, but I didn't really have time to try and help right now. I cared for Boromir, sure, but I also missed my family like all hell, and I wanted to at least find out if there was a way for me to get home. Before my inner monologue could continue, Boromir spoke again.

"Do you require any help?"

Well, now that was sweet as hell of him to ask. I hadn't expected that at all. Here I had thought that he was mad at me or something for mentioning that I was still trying to get home safely. Instead, he surprised me by asking if he could help me, and I could tell he really meant it. The way his face relaxed when he asked, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners...

 _Oh my God, Kayla!_ I yelled at myself. Was I still drunk? Jesus Christ. This was no time for me to be ogling anyone, especially Boromir. Jeez, I was like a school girl. I mentally slapped myself, before answering him.

"No, I'll be fine, but thank you." Wow, I was amazed by how cool I sounded, and by cool I meant calm, reserved, and yet still maintaining a level of cheerful that felt foreign to me. _Proud of you_ , I thought, _I'm sorry I slapped you._ I smiled up at Boromir, "You're needed here." Our gazes held, and I felt my face flush, looking away quickly. "You should stay here."

Boromir paused for a moment, before nodding, his eyes kind again. He placed a hand on my shoulder briefly, and squeezed once. "If you do require any help, you only need to find me." We exchanged a smile, and I couldn't help but wonder why this conversation felt so damn awkward. Was it me? Was it him? I had no idea. As I smiled up at him again, I could feel my insides squirm, but I beat them down.

"Thank you, Boromir. I better get going, I'll see you later." I reached out, grasping his arm, and squeezing once, as he had to my shoulder, before moving passed him, towards the door that lead to the courtyard. I was once again nearly out the door, when he called after me.

"Good luck, Kayla. I hope you find what you are searching for."

I turned back, my heart suddenly wrenching. A wave of regret, anticipation, uncertainty, and hope filled me all at once, and I was momentarily frozen. All I could do was nod lamely to him, and he smiled once more, before disappearing into another door across the hall, no doubt off to do part-time Steward stuff. As the door shut behind him, all I could say softly, as I felt every emotion hit me at once like a wave, was:

"Me, too."

* * *

I traipsed quickly and silently through the streets of Minas Tirith, making my way towards the library, which stood nearly as high as Tower of Ecthelion, soaring above the houses, shops, and battlements. It was the second most impressive structure I had seen since arriving in Middle Earth, the first being my first glimpse of Minas Tirith.

It rose high, arching into the sky, its walls white and stone, gleaming in the morning sun, and its windows silver and blue stained glasses, like that of a chapel, or cathedral. Steps lead to the great, hulking doorway, made of a dark oak, with torches on either side, still burning in the daylight. People milled about at its base, some coming in and out of library, and others passing it by without a second glance, going about their daily lives, carrying baskets of food and fabric, others leading children, and others alone. I slipped through the crowds, careful not to draw attention to myself, as per usual, and made my way up the steps of the great building. I slowly pushed open the doors, and entered. As soon as I did, I was immersed in total darkness.

Torches lined the walls, giving the interior of the library and golden, albeit somewhat eerie, feel to it. They blazed along down the hall, winding away to reaches I could not see, and the flames making dull roaring sounds in the dark. I moved slowly down the hall, my shoes making soft clipping noises on the stone floor, echoing high up in the rafters, and bouncing through my ears. Even with all the torches, it was surprisingly cold inside the library, and I could've sworn that I could see my breath steaming in front of my face as I ghosted through the corridor. Eventually, I came to the end of the hall, and was met with an incredible sight.

The corridor opened up into a huge, stone room, with arching ceilings, and marble columns, with more torches attached to them. It reminded me of a giant cistern, minus water. The light from the torches reflected off the tiled floor, despite looking ancient. I could see other openings dotting the room, leading to more corridors. Above the entrances, I could see withered signs, scrawled in faded ink, indicating the various sections of books down each hall. In the centre of the "cistern", there was a circular stone counter, hollow in the middle, and within that centre stood a man, who nearly looked as old as the library itself.

I slowly approached, the sounds of my shoes on the floor deafening in my ears. I could feel my heart beginning to beat louder and louder with each step, and my skin began to crawl with fear and anticipation. When I made it to the counter, the old man did not acknowledge me.

I cleared my throat once, and he then turned, seemingly startled by my presence, his pale eyes gliding over my face. I flushed, and quickly spoke, "Hello."

Withered skin peeled back from lips as his mouth stretched into a large smile, utterly transforming his face, and giving him an almost grandfatherly look. It really melted my heart, and made this creepy, dark, dank library seem a lot less eerie. I felt my own smile form as he spoke to me.

"You are the Lady Kayla, are you not? A friend of Lord Boromir?"

I paled. Jesus, did _everyone_ in Minas Tirith know who I was now? I guess it was to be expected, seeing as I had arrived in the city with Boromir, and he and Faramir had addressed me directly at the feast. Still, it didn't stop my face from flushing any darker whenever someone mentioned that they knew who I was, and how I had come here, not to mention what "good" I had done. It still felt so weird to me.

I forced my voice out, lest I look any more crazy than I already felt. "Yes, my name is Kayla, and yes, I am a friend of Boromir's." I smiled politely, and the old man, who I now took to assume was the librarian, seemed much more pleasant than before.

"What may I do for you, my dear?" Real grandfather-type guy, my God.

I continued to smile pleasantly back, trying to remain calm, despite my insides doing somersaults. "I was hoping to find a book, or several, actually."

The elderly man perked up instantly, coming around from inside his little desk/kiosk. He strode around to meet me, placing a hand on my arm, and leading me towards the first of the hallways leading down to where the books were no doubt kept.

"We have many books here, my lady. From the history of Middle Earth, to the lines of its kings, and the fabled other realm of the Undying Lands beyond the sea."

I saw my chance, and took it. "Actually, that's why I'm here. It's about "other realms"." I was met with a curious look, and pressed on quickly. "Like the Undying Lands, I have heard that there are stories, or perhaps even historical texts, that may help me understand if there are other worlds out there."

He fixed me with a still more curious look, and I my heart drop when he spoke. "My lady, such places are surely that of fiction. The only possible reality is that of the Undying Lands, and yet only the elves journey there."

I felt a sick lump forming in my throat, but I knew I had to see it myself before I could give, if I even would. "Of course," I tried to keep my voice steady. "But there is no harm in reading up on it, is there? Are there any books that may have something like that in them?"

The librarian was thoughtful for a moment before speaking again, "I suppose there is no harm, yes. Please, follow me, and I will direct you myself to a section I believe you will find useful." He then lent me his arm, which I took with slight apprehension, before he led us through the second hall, and we entered into the darkened tunnel, plunging us into blackness.

* * *

"This book, my lady, you may find the most useful."

The librarian and I were seated at the small, wooden table deep beneath the city of Minas Tirith. The only light available was that of the candle burning beside me, and the torch the librarian was holding in his other hand. When he left, he would light another torch for me, but I could be left there alone, in the almost pitch blackness, with my books, and my small flames. I could hear the dripping of water somewhere nearby, and wondered if it was from a fountain, or a privy.

He had handed me a book bound in dark, thick leather, with yellowed and torn pages sticking out every which way, and I could barely make out the title stitched across the front. It said something like _Histories of Middle Earth_ , or _Myths of Middle Earth_ , but it was so dark that I had to just guess what it said. However, given that the librarian himself had given it to me, I could only assume that it would prove useful to me. I hoped.

I gave him a gracious look, "Thank you very much, sir. Your help is greatly appreciated." He looked pleased, bowed once, indicated where I should start in the book, lit my torch for me, and then I was plunged into silence. I could hear the sounds of his footsteps fading away into the distance, up the stairs, and out of sight.

I turned back to the book, staring down at the nearly ruined page before me, struggling to make out the words. I picked up a candle, careful to not accidentally light the book on fire, as I moved the light across the pages, squinting to read the words. It seemed to me, that this section was about the Undying Lands.

" _Only immortals and ring-bearers were allowed to live in this realm..."_ I whispered to myself as I read the words I could make out _. "In SA 3319, of the Second Age, the treacherous Sauron deceived Ar-Phara_ _ô_ _n, the last King of Númenor, to believe that the ruler of the Undying Lands would be granted immortality and persuaded him that this was man's right and he had but to claim it. To prevent the king's invasion, Ilúvatar destroyed Númenor beneath the ocean and set the Undying Lands forever beyond the reach of mortal Men. Elves were still permitted to sail across the sea to the Undying Lands, if they chose to, which most did."_

I stopped reaching for a moment, my heart pounding. So, the place that Frodo went after he left the port in the Grey Havens was called the Undying lands, and he had only been able to go because he was a ring-bearer. I skimmed through the rest of the pages, searching for something, anything that could help me. Finally, my eyes found a block of text that seemed to leap off the page. I hunkered down, bringing the flame of my candle ever closer.

" _The Undying Lands is perhaps the most fabled of realms known throughout Middle Earth's history. Other realms have been spoken of in whispers through legends, tales and songs throughout the natural lifespan of Arda and her people. Many of claimed to have seen other realms, other races, and other worlds in these stories."_

My hearth leapt, had I found what I was looking for? Did my world, my earth, exist in the fantasies of these people? Had other people accidentally ended up in my world, like I had ended up in theirs? I had to know. I had to know if I was able to get home, or even if there was some concrete evidence that someone, anyone else, had been in my time. I turned the page.

" _However, travel to any such places have yet to be discovered. The notion that other worlds exist is pure speculation, as there is no proof in any written document, myth, or song to suggest that another inhabitable realm is possible."_

There was a profound silence. It filled my ears like rushing water, choking me like the sea, and drowning out my inner screaming. Or was I screaming outwardly?

My heart felt like it had been ripped out through my chest, thrown to the ground, and crushed under a boot right before my eyes, as I bled out on the floor. My head was pounding as though someone was wailing on it with an iron glove, and my soul was whispering away in the wind that howled through the crevasses of the ancient library. I was completely and utterly crushed. I sat there, willing myself to read the passage over and over again, struggling to make sense of the text, desperate to find a hidden meaning, or an allusion that this couldn't be true, that this couldn't be the reality of it all.

That I was stuck here. That I couldn't go home. I was stuck here.

I didn't remember throwing the book, or tearing out of that small, dark room like a bat out of hell, but I did. I felt the hot tears beginning to pool and cloud my vision as I practically vaulted over the desk in the cistern, bidding a quick and watery farewell to the elderly man, who look somewhat shocked at my outburst, as I tore out of the library, and back into the streets of Minas Tirith.

The sun was getting low in the sky as dull light met my eyes, nearly blinding me. I shielded myself, stumbling through the streets, pushing past the Gondorians, making my way back to my chambers, throwing open the door, and locking myself within, but not before asking one of the servants to bring me the biggest pitcher of wine they could find.

If I was going to be stuck here, dammit, I was going to get faced.

* * *

I lay on my bed, an empty cup still clutched in my hand. The half finished four litre tub of wine still posed next to me on my bedside table. I was staring up at the ceiling, my face streaked with tears, and my hair an absolute mess. I was hammered. Well, maybe not as hammered as I had been an hour before, but I was still pretty hammered. I had a loaf of half-eaten bread beside me, and a small pitcher of water, untouched, on my other side. My stomach was in terrible pain, but I relished in it. I wanted to feel the agony, the searing burn of the alcohol in my gut, and the dizziness that came with it.

I was stuck here. I couldn't go home. I would never see my family again. I would never see my friends again, I would never get married, or have children...

A thought struck me, and I felt my cheeks flush, possibly due to the wine, but also at the thought that had struck me so hard it made me dizzier. Maybe I should go and find him...

Almost as soon as I contemplated getting up, there was a knock on my door, and I snapped to attention, stumbling from my bed, and pattering across the cold, stone floor, grabbing blindly for the handle, and jerking it open in as ungracious a manner as humanly possible.

I came face to face with Boromir.

I could tell that he had perhaps come to see how I was, seeing as I hadn't seen him since the morning. I knew it was a kind gesture, and that he probably wasn't expecting to see what he now saw. The smile had fixed slid right off his face upon seeing the state I was in, and was replaced by a look of pure fear and concern.

"Kayla!" He said sharply, catching my arm as I stumbled backwards. "What on... What's happened? Are you alright?"

I stared up at him, making every effort I had in me to speak, but instead...

I started crying harder than I had ever cried in my entire natural life. I gripped the front of his tunic, buried my face in it, and ugly sobbed right into the material. Sobs heaved through me like fire, pouring out like magma, and all Boromir could do was stand there, staring down at me, looking shocked, and maybe a little grossed out that I was crying all over him.

"Kayla..." His voice was kind, however, as he gently stroked my back. "Kayla, what's happened? Are..." He paused, sniffing once, "Are you drunk?"

I pulled away for a moment, looking up at him, my eyes red, and wiping my nose pathetically, before nodding once. "I'm fucking sloshed." I gurgled, hiccoughing as I said it, wiping my face on my sleeve. Boromir stared down at me, before gently pushing me back into my room, entering himself, and closing the door behind us. He led me to my bed, and sat me down, before walking around the bed, and pouring me a cup of water. He came back, handed it to me, and then retrieved a nearby chair, seating himself across from me. He reached out, clasping my hands in his, his grey eyes staring into mine, and it only made me want to cry harder.

"Kayla," his voice was gentle, and I felt fresh tears start to fall, looking down at our hands, clasped together in my lap. "Your visit to the library has provided you with the information you were dreading, did it not?" I couldn't answer, I could only nod, swallowing another sob. As I did, Boromir's posture drooped, and his closed his eyes for a moment, looking so tired and sad. He let go of my hands, leaning back in his chair, surveying me, his grey eyes full of sympathy.

"I am so sorry, Kayla." I could hear the genuineness of his tone, and I had to stifle another cry, before I managed to sniffle out.

"I can't go home; there is no magic or text that suggests how I got here, or why I don't remember. I'll never remember." My voice broke, and I looked down, my heart hurting anew. "I don't have a home anymore." I pressed my palm, so cold and clammy, to my mouth, holding back another drunken wail. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tears coming again. Suddenly, I felt Boromir reach out and grip my hands again, and my head snapped up. I regretted moving so quickly, since my head spun like a top.

"You _do_ have a home, Kayla." Boromir spoke fiercely, and his grey eyes steely. "You have a home, right here, in Gondor, in Minas Tirith, with me, and my brother, and our people."

His words hit me like a semi-truck. I stared at him, my sadness ebbing slightly. "Boromir...?" I was at a loss for words.

He sat back, standing, and offering me his hand, which I took, and he helped me to my feet. We stood like that for a moment, before he spoke again. "You are not without a home, Kayla. When this has all ended, we will continue to search for it, to find the answers you seek to return you to your family, and your people. Until then, your home will be here, in this city, with my people. You are and always will be safe here." When I opened my mouth to speak again, he cut my off by suddenly stepping forward, drawing me to him, and placing his lips to my forehead. All at once, my heart and face exploded, and it felt like a fire had been lit all throughout my body.

We stood like that for a moment, the feeling of his facial hair on my skin, and his arms around me. Finally, he pulled away, looking down at me, before stepping away. "You must rest, Kayla, it has been a long day for us both." He squeezed my shoulders once more, and let his hands drop. "Drink more water; we will speak again in the morning. Until then, you've nothing to fear, dread, or be in this state over. I swore to protect you when we journeyed here together, and I intend to continue to abide by that promise. You've a home here, do not forget that." He smiled once, and I continued to stand there, feeling frozen, like a doll. Boromir walked to the door, and when he opened it, he turned to look at me once more.

"Goodnight, Kayla. I will come for you in the morning, and we can speak more then. For now sleep; I expect you will need to nurse a headache in the morning." His smile did reach his eyes, and I could feel it in my heart that I would be teased for this tomorrow, as a means of kindness, I hoped. I could also see the sympathy, gentleness, and... Something else I could not place. I managed to utter out a few words before he disappeared.

"Goodnight, Boromir, and thank you." My voice didn't break so much that time. He nodded, the kindness still there, and shut the door behind him. I stood for a moment and, in my drunken state, another thought crossed my mind, as the fire that had lit itself still burned dully. I couldn't go home, even if Boromir spent a year, day and night, searching for answers. I could never see my family again, or my friends, or my houses, or my bed, and yet...

Maybe staying in Middle Earth wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you all enjoyed this! I liked writing this one. I think it was a good turning point in character development, don't you?**


	22. I'm so White I could be a Beacon

**A/N:** **Hello! Again, as per usual, thank you for the lovely reviews on my story. Love you guys. Read on!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: ** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Twenty-Two**

 **I'm so White I could be a Beacon of Gondor**

* * *

A month had gone by since my last little outburst. Everyone had settled in to their daily lives in Minas Tirith. Pippin had begun helping Faramir with his duties within his office. In this universe, since Denethor was locked away being crazy, he didn't need to be his servant, so the little hobbit had selectively offered his services to the young Gondorian captain. I think they were working relatively well together, since Pippin seemed to be happy, and Faramir seemed much more at ease with the Halfling helping him out.

Boromir had taken to his Steward duties so quickly that it seemed to me that he was born for this. He sat with such a regal air on the small chair beside the throne and, despite not being the actual king of Gondor, I couldn't help but feel that, if Aragorn were for some reason not want the throne, Boromir would make an excellent ruler of Gondor. This was an alternate universe now, since I had gone and totally screwed it up, there was a small chance that Aragorn would not want to be king, or would maybe never even end up convinced to take it.

I had spent the last month just kind of hanging out, minding my own business and wandering the streets of Minas Tirith. I went through my days reading, doodling on scraps parchment, looking out at the view of the fields of Pelennor, or squinting into the distance at Mordor, and feeling a chill run up my spine. I knew that the eventual lighting of the Beacons of Gondor was coming, and that the battle was imminent, I just didn't know when exactly it would happen, and that was what frightened me the most.

During the course of the month, I had watched as Boromir, despite taking to his new duties as stand-in Steward so well, become more and more exhausted with each passing day. I saw very little of him since our talk in my room the night I had gotten drunk because I couldn't go home. True to his word, he had come for me in the morning, and we had gone for a walk through the courtyard and gardens near the palace together.

He had spoken to me of how he would continue to help me look for a way to get me home this was all over, and I had felt a stab of guilt. He had no idea that, by sending me home, if he were so able to do, that it would mean I would be leaving this world forever, and that I would never see him again. Not only that, but he would go back to being merely a fictional character to me, and the rest of the world and, not to mention, being dead in the lore again.

That thought had hit me very hard when I had realized it after we had parted ways after our chat. If I were to go home, and be with my family, my life, and my friends again, it would mean that, in the original story of _The Lord of the Rings_ , Boromir would be dead, and there would be no changing that aspect at all, except with the reading of fan fictions wherein that was altered. Sometimes my predicament really felt like something a bored twenty-something would write as a means to pass the time. The fact that Boromir was alive because some random girl fell into Middle Earth seemed very fan fiction-esque to me. If this was someone's idea of a funny joke, or story idea, then dammit, they needed to get a life.

I tried not to think about Boromir going back to being dead were I to return home, and instead struggled to find things to do to keep myself busy during my stay in Minas Tirith. Boromir and Faramir had advised against me wandering too far down the steps and into the city itself. Minas Tirith may have been one of the most gorgeous places I had ever been in my life, but it still housed bad people, as did any city. Since I had no real way to defend myself, nor did I really know how, the brothers had suggested I remain close to the palace and the keep, so as to stay within help's reach, should I need it.

After that discussion, I had elected to attempt to learn to use weapons. I had begun training with Pippin, who had been training with Faramir, and a few of his rangers when the young Gondorian wasn't available. The hobbit and I had been practicing with hand to hand combat, as well as using small daggers and short swords, in the event that the city was attacked, which I knew it would be, and the others were anticipating. We practiced every day from sunrise to mid afternoon, and I was exhausted after each session, but I knew that one, it was preparing me for the worst, and two, it was amazing exercise. My muscles screamed after the first few days. After the first week, however, I was already getting used to it.

It was getting harder and harder for me to not tell Boromir that I knew that the city was going to be attacked. It had kept so much from him already, and if I were to suddenly tell him that his home was going to be under siege soon, then he would probably question everything I had ever told him. It killed me knowing that so many deaths could possibly be prevented if I were to tell him. They could evacuate the city, and get all the innocents out alive. However, it could also totally fuck everything up even more, and I was so worried for that. At least this way, perhaps Rohan could come to their aid sooner, and a lot of the senseless bloodshed from the brief battle at Osgiliath could be avoided. I knew it was better to not say anything, however, as much as I may want to.

What was holding me back, really? Was it really the fact that I was afraid of affecting the plot more? Or was I more afraid of what Boromir would think of me? Why did I care so much about what he thought anyway? Ugh, even when he wasn't around, that man was still able to get so far under my skin, it infuriated me.

At least I could take solace knowing that, with Boromir in charge, perhaps the battle at Osgiliath, where Faramir was nearly mortally wounded, would not take place. I knew that the forces in Mordor were still growing rapidly, and that they were congregating nearer and nearer to the western border of Osgiliath. They were inching closer to the west walls, and by that definition, Minas Tirith herself.

I had overheard Boromir discussing battle plans with Faramir a few nights before, as I had been wandering the corridors. They had been bent over Boromir's desk in his quarters (mine weren't far from his), with maps and small tokens meant to pose as their armies on an imaginary battlefield places precariously on a map of Middle Earth. Boromir had seen me watching him from the doorway, and had kindly asked how I was doing. We had made idle chit chat for a few moments, before I asked if he had needed any help with their plans, to which he had kindly declined, and sent me on my way. I knew he didn't want to worry me with all that was doing on, but it still annoyed me that I wasn't able to help them. Not because he had said it was alright, but because I felt so inherently useless. I knew Boromir had a good head on his shoulders, and would never let his younger brother be sent off into a battle that would surely end in most if not all of his men dying, unlike Denethor.

Speaking of crazy, I had noted how Denethor was not around much as of late. I had seen him once or twice in the last month, when he could be seen wandering the courtyards, flanked by guards, in order to allow the poor man some sunlight and fresh air. Other than that, he was locked away in his bedchambers, not allowed to come out. He had gone full crazy, and it still pained me to think about. Poor Boromir and Faramir looked so drained whenever Denethor was brought up. I knew they were hurting still, and my heart went out to them both.

Whenever I had seen Denethor, he was either barking mad orders at his guards, telling them to execute random pedestrians, or speaking morosely about how, were Boromir still alive, he would have done a much better job running everything, rather than Faramir. I saw this happen once when Faramir was actually in earshot, and it broke my heart at the look on the young ranger's face. Boromir was indeed alive, and Denethor still wasn't registering this. Boromir had actually been around when Denethor had made this comment, and I think it had taken all the strength within him to not verbally, or physically, assault his father.

Now, Denethor was kept locked away on a somewhat more permanent basis, in order to keep him from spewing any more hate wherever he went. I think that both Boromir and Faramir appreciated this change, since they could now focus on the protection of the city in peace, rather than having to worry that their father would come barging in, acting like a mad, raving, lunatic.

I spent the majority of my time wandering the battlements, alleys, and paths of the White City. It calmed me, seeing as the merchants and shops were farther below, and the guards said barely two words to me when I passed them. It felt as though I were alone in the world, and it gave me some relaxation that I desperately needed. I would listen to the wind on the stone, and feel the cool marble under my feet.

I often wandered barefoot, in order to physically feel the ground beneath. I had anxiety, and it helped me literally feel grounded. When I was a child, I had spent a lot of time outside, playing in the woods near my house, or going to the park. Whenever I had had a bad day, I would take off my shoes, and just run, feeling the earth, the grass, and the concrete on the balls and soles of my feet. Oftentimes I would end up cut and bruised, but I didn't care. I had felt so alive back then.

And then I had grown up.

It's a funny thing: adulthood. We lose so much of ourselves to bitterness, money, relationships, and jobs. Everyone put so much pressure on everyone else, and expected so much in return. You can't get experience for something without experiencing it first, and yet no one wants you if you don't have experience. People became jaded, and thusly adulthood became all about wealth, status, and experience.

Now that I was here in Middle Earth, I felt like I had regressed a little bit, allowing myself to not worry so much about money, position, and time as a whole. The people who lived here didn't worry about time, since they often had so little of it. They worked hard, loved fiercely, and position mattered, but not as much as it did where I came from. I could run barefoot through a city courtyard without being called homeless, or scorned by passer-by's. I could just wander around without people wondering if I had some kind of mental illness. I could be a single, young woman, without people saying I was a prude for being a single, young woman. Life here was different, and I felt that, over the last few months, I had come to like it here.

I still wanted to go home; I still wanted to see my family, and my friends, and my pets, and my school. I wanted to eat taquitos, and drink cold beer, and smoke a bowl with my brother. However, I knew that, deep down, I was slowly starting to prefer it here, especially after realizing that there was a very real chance I wouldn't be going home any time soon, if ever again.

The sun was just climbing over the hills and mountains as I dressed for the day, to meet up with Pippin for our training session. I donned a leather, form fitting tunic, and leather pants, something a lot of women, well, human women, were not seen wearing. Elven women were often seen wearing pants of some kind, as many of them knew how to fight. Elven culture was so different from humans, and it gladdened me to know that I was at least being trained properly with a sword, and sometimes shield, in the event that the city was attacked, which I knew it would be.

I threw a loose fitting, cream coloured blouse under the tunic, yanked on my boots, strapped my small wooden short sword to my hip, and exited my room, hustling down the hall, hoping I wouldn't be late. The sun had already been risen for maybe half an hour; I had slept in today, and would be damned if I was making them wait for me. Them being Pippin and Faramir.

Once or twice, Boromir would show up and watch us spar, and once or twice, I would drop my sword, accidentally actually hit Faramir or Pippin, or trip. Pippin had joked that Boromir's being there distracted me, which caused me to turn the colour of a strawberry, and Boromir to hastily, and almost nervously, declare that he "Should really be going," before disappearing. I was then met with knowing looks from Pippin and Faramir, one of which led me to storm off in an annoyed huff, leaving them both laughing in my dust. Ugh, immature men. I raced down the stone steps of the palace, taking two at a time, until I was barrelling across the courtyard, and hurrying to the barracks, where I knew the two would be. I could hear the distant sounds of clashing metal as I raced into the barracks, through the small, stone tunnel, and out into the sparring area.

It was a large, grassy patch, with wooden dummies, some sporting orc helms, others orc swords, attached to poles that would swivel upon impact. It made for a more "realistic" attacker, if such a thing existed. Old, rusted, and worn down weapons were posed on the weapon racks nearby, for soldiers to practice with, as well as wooden swords, clubs, and shields. There were also targets for archery practice, something I was still eager to try, and also various sets of old armour, to practice fighting while wearing it. It was like a medieval gym.

Faramir and Pippin were standing in the middle of the training area, swords in hand. Pippin was brandishing a wooden sword, well a sword for him, a dagger for me; he was very small. Faramir was wielding a wooden sword that was nearly the same length as Pippin was tall. They looked positively ridiculous, and I had to stifle a giggle, by changing it into a yawn as I approached. They didn't see me right away, and continued to spar. I realized that the sound of the clashing metal I had heard was the sound of the swords reverberating off of the breastplates they wore, as I saw one strike the other. It made a sound like a steel drum, and I was reminded of my time in band class, back in middle school. I felt a pang of nostalgia, but shoved it down when Pippin noticed me.

"Kayla!" His voice rang clear in the early morning air, his breath coming out in a small puff, as his eyes sparkled, and he grinned at me. Suddenly, he was knocked off his feet, as Faramir ran into him. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough to send the tiny hobbit flying. My hand flew to my mouth, in both horror, and sheer amusement. I knew Pippin was fine, but it still surprised me.

I supposed Pippin felt the same way, as he sat up, bug-eyed, and out of breath. Above him, Faramir towered, his mouth quirked in a grin, as he hauled the hobbit to his feet.

"I told you, Pippin, never take your eyes off the enemy. Even if there is a pretty girl involved." He threw me a grin, to which I replied with in kind. "Good morning, Kayla. Are you ready for today?"

I kept the smile fixed in place, despite my brain still running in overdrive about everything that had happened in the last month. "Of course, as always! Let's do this." I moved to the centre of the training area, readied my sword, squared my shoulders, and faced Faramir, weapon at the ready. He came at me, and our weapons hit, hard nearly knocking the wind out of me. I felt my feet skid along the ground, as per usual. Faramir wasn't much taller than I was, but he was a hell of a lot stronger. Almost every session, I ended up flat on my back or butt, wincing in all kinds of pain. This time, however, I didn't fall. Instead, I parried, driving him a step or two back. As I did, I saw the ranger's grin was back.

"You're getting stronger," he complimented me, looking proud, "Soon enough, you may be mistaken for a man." I knew he didn't mean it in a sexist way; Faramir often teased me when we sparred. Today, however, I was having none of his sass. I felt the retort come to my lips, and it was too good not to pass up. My mouth curbed in a smirk, and I readied my weapon again, preparing to charge.

"I am no man."

* * *

God in heaven, my body was sore as fuck.

After my latest session of training with Faramir, I had elected to take a few days off, just to rest, and allow my body to recuperate. We had gone at it for over three hours, attacking, parrying, shooting, and even hand-to-hand combat. I was about ninety-eight percent sure that my ribs were bruised, and that I had bruises on my bruises. My muscles were stiff, and my back ached something fierce. Pippin hadn't faired much better than I had. He had vanished back to his quarters with his proverbial tail between his legs after we had finished.

Faramir, on the other hand, had set off to speak with Boromir. Osgiliath was still contested territory, and the orcs were pushing the men of Minas Tirith harder and harder each day. I knew that Faramir wanted to send a small squad back into the ruins, to try and capture at least part of it, but Boromir wasn't budging. He didn't want his little brother running headlong into what could be a slaughter. I knew, however, that this wasn't the slaughter than could still potentially come. With Denethor being bat shit crazy, and locked away, it was unlikely that he would foolishly send his son and his forces on a suicide mission into the ruins of the city. Still, it could happen, just on other terms. It pained me to know that I was keeping the near, if not possible, death of Boromir's younger brother from him.

I elected to stay out of the matter, mostly due to fear that I would accidentally mess something up further, and also because I was afraid of angering Boromir. I knew he took his duties as Steward very seriously, as he had displayed on many occasions; if I, a woman, and his friend no less, were to step on his toes and give my insight, provided that insight was better than his, his ego may be stung. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with a grumpy Boromir. I'd had enough of that when I had first come here.

I had spent most of that day hanging out in my room, leafing through old books, and doodling on parchment. Once of twice, I would step out onto my balcony, and look out over the city, breathing in the now clear air, knowing what was coming. I could almost taste the ash and blood that would soon fill the sky like a miasma. It sickened me to know that, no matter what I did or didn't do, innocent lives would be lost.

I tried to put the dark thoughts out of my head, and instead decided to leave my room, and go for a walk about the courtyard. Despite my muscles aching and practically screaming as I did, I knew I needed to move, and distract myself from all the impending doom surrounding this place. Maybe I would go see what Boromir was up to, since I figured it had been a few hours, and Faramir had probably returned to his office. Even though Boromir was busy as all hell, we still went on short walks together sometimes, and he would see how I was doing, and if I needed anything. The walks were strained at times, and I knew his mind was elsewhere, so I would cut them short, feigning exhaustion, and allow him to get back to work. At times, he would look disappointed, as though he had hoped to continue talking, but I knew he knew I meant well.

I was just rounding the corner towards Boromir's office (he had an office as a Steward now; Denethor's old one, before the crazy), when I heard voices from inside. I distinctly was able to make out Boromir's, Faramir's, Gandalf's, and another I did not know. I stopped, and carefully leaned towards the door, listening intently, while also trying to maintain an air of inconspicuousness.

"Boromir, we must act. If we delay, they will overrun us." It sounded like Faramir, and he sounded less than thrilled with his older brother. I heard a loud sigh.

"Faramir, it is out of the question; you and your men would be walking into a slaughter. The orcs cling to Osgiliath's walls like maggots to a corpse; it would be suicide. We must await the arrival of Rohan, and King Théoden."

"Signal them if you must, Boromir, it will be several days before they arrive. Until then, we have to hold them back." Faramir sounded almost desperate. Was he really so willing as to charge into battle so recklessly? I had never pegged my level-headed combat instructor to be that way.

Gandalf spoke next, his withered, unmistakable voice breaking through the brothers' bickering. "Boromir is right, Faramir. Do not throw your life away so rashly; there are not enough men to withstand the might of Mordor at this hour." His tone was final, and not to be argued with. I could almost picture Faramir and Boromir exchanging a look, the older being firm, and the younger slightly nervous. Finally, after a long pause, Faramir spoke again.

"Allow me to send a scout, then. He will not enter far – just far enough to see what the enemy plans for Minas Tirith." His voice cut off as though someone else was about to speak, but he pressed on quickly. "Call for Rohan; light the beacons. In the meantime, we should begin preparations for war." Another long pause. "You know war is coming, Boromir. We have foreseen this for a time."

I suspected Boromir nodded or something, because there was then movement as the men stood. "Very well, Faramir, send your scout. Ceden," Boromir addressed someone I did not know, perhaps the other man in the room whose voice I didn't recognize, "find a scout willing to take this task; tell them to report back to me tomorrow morning, no later than dawn. We must take all the time we can to prepare." The sounds of chairs scraping on stone hit my ear that was pressed flat against the door, and I leaped back, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. I backed up, making it seem as though I was just coming down the hall, when the door swung open.

Boromir, Faramir, Gandalf, and the soldier I assumed was Ceden, exited Boromir's office, their backs to me. They bid one another farewell, and as they did, Faramir looked passed Boromir, and saw me standing there. A knowing smile formed on his lips, and he nodded to Boromir once, who turned to see me. Gandalf noticed me too, and gave me a short, kind nod, which I returned, before quickly smiling at Ceden, who saluted once, and then walked off down the hall.

I turned my gaze to Boromir, as Gandalf and Faramir bid him farewell, and journeyed down the hall together, probably speaking about the upcoming plan, which I was, of course, supposed to know nothing about. He was regarding me with an odd expression, and I tried to maintain my cool as I approached him.

"Hey," I smiled politely, and his face softened, and he smiled back, but I saw how strained it looked. "Everything okay? You look terrible."

Boromir chuckled at my blunt tone. "I am well, Kayla; or at least I will be, when this is all over." His morbid phrase set me back a bit, but I tried to ignore it.

"What are you up to now? Care for a walk? I have nothing to do today." I tried to keep my tone casual, and he seemed to appreciate it, even in these trying times.

"I would love to, Kayla, but I am too busy at this moment," he paused then, suddenly considering something. "I stand corrected; would you care to accompany me? There is something you may be interested in seeing." I tilted my head, feeling confused, but nodded nonetheless. Boromir gestured next to him, and I fell into step beside him as we exited the keep, and made for a set of stairs near the barracks that I had had yet to climb.

"We have beacons, stretching from Amon Dîn, to Amon Anwar," Boromir began, and I realized not only what he was about to say, but what I was about to see. My heart nearly exploded out of my chest cavity. "We light them in times of danger, when Gondor is under siege. We have added our own, here in the city, as a means to begin the call, when needed."

I looked upwards as we came to the top of the stairs. Above us was a great tower, and resting on the top was a huge pyre; wood folded in on itself, forming an almost triangle like shape. I looked back at Boromir. "You mean to light them, don't you? Has it gotten that bad?"

Boromir looked down at me, his face sad. "I am afraid so." His voice was soft, almost afraid. I had never seen him like this. I gently reached out and touched his arm, and he reached up and squeezed my hand once. I felt lightning strike my heart as he did. "War is coming, Kayla. We must prepare ourselves for that." He looked grim, his mouth set in a straight, thin line. He looked away from me, and up to the soldiers patrolling above. They were looking down at us, and I saw Boromir nod once. The soldiers nodded back, saluting once, before turning and one taking hold of the large torch, burning brightly beside the pyre. The other soldier removed the large container filled with what I guessed was oil, and poured it over the pyre.

Then the torch fell.

The pyre went up in flames in a manner of milliseconds. Smoke billowed from above us, choking out the sun for a moment, and I coughed, trying to see what was happening through the blackness. I saw the glow of orange and gold flames licking the wood, arching upwards, snaking towards the sky. After a full minute, the beacon was burning entirely. Even from the ground, I could feel the heat radiating.

Suddenly, a voice shouted. "Lord Boromir, the beacon of Amon Dîn! The beacon is lit!"

Boromir and I turned and, sure enough, in the far distance, barely a small blob considering my vision was so terrible without my glasses on, a small, glowing dot appeared atop the mountain. It, too, arched and rose, and beyond that, I thought I could see another small, fiery dot form; perhaps it was my imagination.

Beside me, I heard Boromir let out a long, drawn out sigh. "So it begins."

I looked up at him, but he wasn't seeing me. He was lost in his own fear, doubt, and anger. I could see it in his eyes, his mouth, even his very skin seemed to shiver and pale, despite the heat above us. War was coming, and there was no stopping it now.

The beacons were lit. Gondor called for aid.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hope you all enjoyed the update! Thanks again for all the support! Xx**


	23. Osgiliath - Take 2

**A/N:** **Hello! Updates are becoming farther and fewer in between, and I greatly apologize for that! I have been so busy, but I am gladdened to see that people are still enjoying my story! Here is the next update; enjoy!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Twenty-Three**

 **Osgiliath – Take 2**

* * *

Gondor had called for aid nearly a fortnight ago. I had been wringing my hands impatiently while Gondor prepared for what I was certain was going to be a bloodbath. Ceden, Faramir's scout, had returned with news that the enemy was still on the move, gathering their forces closer, and worse still further, into Osgiliath. Boromir had grown agitated and fearful, something I had seen him doing more frequently lately, and had locked himself away in his study with Faramir, Gandalf, and Ceden again, spending hours discussing what I figured were battle plans. This continued for nearly two weeks; I barely saw any of them.

I knew that Faramir wanted to attack Osgiliath, taking the forces of Mordor by surprise. He knew Osgiliath well, as did Boromir – they knew the secret passages and rat ways leading in and out of the ruined city; it wouldn't be hard for them to sneak up on the monsters. However, they also outnumbered the Gondorian forces ten to one; they would be walking into a slaughter. Boromir had been continuously advising Faramir against marching into Osgiliath, much to my own gladness – this meant that Faramir wouldn't be nearly mortally wounded against the evil creatures, and Denethor wouldn't do anything crazy.

Well, okay, that was still debateable.

Denethor was still being as much as a nutcase as ever before – ranting and raving away like a lunatic. When he was allowed outside, since both Boromir and Faramir agreed that he needed to be able to see and feel the sun from time to time, Denethor would traipse about like he owned Minas Tirith, much like he had before he had lost his marbles. He would ask random soldiers if they were preparing for war, since he had been able to see the beacons being lit, and demanded to know how Faramir planned to live up to his brother's legacy, all the while Boromir and Faramir watching forlornly from a distance. It pained me so much to see this, but I knew that they knew there was nothing that could be done. They just had to either ride it out, or accept that their father was going to be crazy for the rest of his days.

The soldiers were preparing for battle, and had been since the lighting of the beacons. We had no idea when Rohan would show up to help, it could be another week, maybe even two. They had an army of thousands to move, around seven thousand, and that would be no small feat to do so. I could see Boromir becoming progressively more and more stressed with each passing day, and it made me feel so stupid and selfish. Here I was, preoccupied with how I may or may not feel about him, and here he was, trying to make sure his home was decimated by the armies of Mordor.

In the last two weeks, in an effort to distract myself, I had done all I could to help out. I practiced sparring with Pippin, since Faramir was tied up with his own work, and the two of us were getting better and better with each passing day. It wouldn't be fair to the brothers if, while they were out fighting, they had to worry about us not being able to defend ourselves up at the keep. Though, Boromir had mentioned he would still fear for our safety, should the walls be breached, which I knew they probably would be. At this point, however, so much ad changed that I had no idea how the battle of the Pelennor Fields would end up. The armies of Gondor and Rohan could lose horribly, and everything could be destroyed, and all hope lost, I didn't know. It made me sick to my stomach, but I tried to ignore it.

Instead, I put all my time and effort asking both Boromir and Faramir what they needed me to do. Oftentimes, they had nothing for me to do during the daylight hours. At night, however, Boromir would come to my room sometimes, and we would talk. Not about anything in particular, and especially not about battle plans, he had enough of that during the days, and sometimes nights. I think he came to see me because his mind needed a break, and he just wanted to talk for the sake of talking; to feel like he could have a normal conversation about every day life, rather than discussing the inevitable death and destruction that was coming. It was comforting to him, and I enjoyed it – it comforted me, as well.

That evening was no different. I was seated on my bed, reading what I could only assume was what people from my world referred to as _The Silmarillion_ , when I heard the soft knock on my door, and the creak of the old hinges as it was gently pushed open. Boromir's face appeared around the door, looking exhausted. I closed my book, glancing to my left at the candle I usually had burning beside me while I read. It burned lower than it normally did.

"You're later tonight," I said quietly, a small, amused smile on my lips as I rose from my bed to embrace him in a warm hug. He lingered in my arms a little longer than usual, and I felt my heart beat a little more rapidly, but told it to shut up, and it calmed. I gently released him, looking him up and down. "Everything alright?"

Boromir nodded tiredly, his grey eyes dull, and his posture slouched. "Everything is as it should be; it is very mentally taxing, I will admit." He passed a hand across his face, sighing once. I took that as my queue, and stepped away from him, allowing him to properly enter my room.

"Would you like a cup of wine, or some water?" I asked, backing up to my small, silver table, which held pitchers of both. I hadn't been much of a wine drinker back home, but since I had been in Minas Tirith for nearly a month now, I had come to rather enjoy the taste.

"Wine, please." Boromir moved to sit on a stool I had placed by the open doors to the balcony. We often sat there and talked, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning, and he would depart when the sun was just beginning to creep over the mountains.

I poured two cups of wine, and came over to sit with him, handing him one of the cups, while slowly taking small sips of my own. We sat in silence for a moment, each staring off into space, not speaking. My mind wandered, wondering what we could speak about tonight. Sometimes, we wouldn't speak for a good half hour, and just sit in comfortable silence. I was actually glad that we were able to just sit and not talk, and yet still be happy to spend time together. Friendships where you're able to sit in silence and still be happy were friendships I cherished. There were no awkward silences, or long pauses where both people felt uncomfortable. After the days Boromir had been having as of late, I couldn't blame him that he just wanted to sit quietly for a bit.

A moment later, Boromir stood suddenly, and exited the room onto the balcony. He placed his cup on the stone and marble edge of the sill, resting his palms on it, staring out over Minas Tirith, and towards the glowing borders of Mordor beyond. I let him be for a moment, before getting up myself, and joining him. I placed my wine cup next to him, and we both looked out over the darkening city. Small lights glowed in the distance, from shop windows, and homes, casting a pleasant, orange glow over the stark white, darkened walls of the city. We stood in silence for a few more moments, before I plucked up the courage to break it.

"Do you want to play 20 Questions?"

Boromir started, glancing down at me, his expression curious, and I felt a smile tug at my mouth. "20 Questions? What is that?"

I panicked for a second, realizing that I now had to explain a game I used tyo play back home, with my friends, at parties, or with my family. I thought quickly, formulating a semi reliable answer. "It's a game I used to play with my father when I was a child. You think of something: a person, place, or thing, and then the other person poses you twenty questions about it, until they either give up, or can guess what it is correctly. It's a great way to pass the time, especially if you're bored, or need a distraction."

Boromir raised a brow, though he looked intrigued. "Twenty questions..." He stared down at me, and I smiled, nodding.

"Here, I'll give you an example. Say you think of Minas Tirith, right? I can ask you if it's a person, so you'd say no, then I'd ask if it was a place, and you'd say yes. So, I'd ask if it was in the Shire, and you'd say no, and then I'd ask if it was an elvish city, and you'd say no again. So, I'd ask if it was in Gondor, and you'd say yes, and then I'd probably guess Minas Tirith, and then you'd say yes, and I'd win. Make sense?" Boromir was staring at me, looking a tad confused, and I had to stifle a giggle. "I know it seems complicated, but it's really easy, and really fun. Oh, also, "People" counts as races too, like Hobbits, Men, Dwarves, and Elves, okay?" Boromir continued to stare, and I rolled my eyes, an amused smirk on my face. I reach out and took his arm, winding my own through his. "Come on, let's go inside; you'll enjoy it."

* * *

Boromir and I were seated opposite each other – the candles I had lot were burning low, and it was probably close to the middle of the night. We had played 20 Questions for what felt like hours, and it probably had been. It had taken Boromir a few tries to get the hang of it, but once he had, he had come to enjoy it. If the game had taught me anything, it was that I really needed to learn more about the lore of this place, especially geography. Boromir had chosen farmsteads I had never heard of, and people I had never read about, and he had won by a landslide. However, I had tripped him up by choosing Beren once, and he had been unable to guess. Oftentimes, I had found myself exclaiming, "Oh! Right! Sorry, my brain isn't working today," and more often than not, Boromir would laugh at my own expense, saying that I really needed to brush up on my reading.

I had then taught him how to play X's and O's, as well as Rock, Paper (or parchment as I referred to it here), Scissors. When he had questioned as to the logistics of the game, I had to explain that it's what kids did to try and decipher between ties in games, or anything of the like. He had caught on pretty quick, but kept picking rock, so I had kept on winning. Finally, he had gotten too frustrated with me, and had asked to stop, which had made me laugh. Now, we were playing a variation of "Truth or Dare", but in this case, it was just "Truth", since "Dare" could be possibly too risky, given the circumstances, and Boromir was in the a position of semi-power now, and couldn't risk being made to do something stupid. Instead, we had taken to asking each other questions in which we had to answer completely honestly. When asked what the purpose of the game was, I had said it was a good way to get to know one another better.

"We've known each other for a few months now, and we only know what there is on the surface," I explained matteroffactly, "This will be a good way to get to know each other on a better level, like the friends we are." I paused here, regaridng him carefully, "You do consider us friends, don't you?"

Boromir looked offended, and I smiled as he responded, "Of course I do, Kayla, do not assume such ridiculous things." My smile widened, and Boromir looked a bit exasperated, a bit amused. "What would you like to ask me?"

I shrugged, "Technically, you just answered honestly to us being friends, so I am going to count that. It's your turn to ask me something; anything you like, and I'll do my best to answer it."

Boromir watched me, looking thoughtful. I had intended for this game to be fun, and for us to learn more about one another, especially seeing as how I was starting to feel about it. This would be a good way for me to determine if what I was feeling was real, or some weird variation of Stockholm Syndrome, wherein I wasn't necessarily being held against my will, but I had no choice but to be around him all the time. Now, however, I was starting to think that, if Boromir asked me a question about my home, or my life, I would either have to be honest, or make up fomr elaborate lie to eleviate the akward tension. To be honest, I was starting to forget where I had even said I was from, or what I had said my life was like. I had to revisit my made up life.

My name was Kayla, and I was from Bree-Land. My father was a farmer, who had died to the Nazgûl when they had come through our farmstead in search of Frodo and the One Ring. I had escaped Bree-Land when the Nazgûl had killed my father, ended up getting knocked out, or whatever, and found myself alone in the woods with all my stuff. I had no memory of how I got there (which wasn't untrue), and knew that the journey was too dangerous to take on my own back to Bree-Land. There was nothing left for me there, seeing as my "family" was gone, and my home possibly destroyed. I wanted to figure out how I had ended up so far from Bree-Land, not knowing how I had gotten there, and what foul magic was responsible. I wanted to go home, despite knowing that that home may be impossible to return to, and it devastated me. This was also true, thankfully. The sadness I felt towards that was not fabricated whatsoever. It made it a little easier to pretend, knowing that the emotions I was feeling were very, very real.

It was funny, sometimes I actually, for the briefest of moments, believed that I truly was Kayla of Bree-Land. This had been my life for so many months now, and I was so used to being here. I was used to waking up with the sun, sleeping without earplugs, eating unprocessed, normal food, and working to survive. I knew the ever present dangers that lurked beyond the walls and shadows, in the dark corners of the world, some of which were right on my doorstep. I was used to not having the Internet, a phone, or any kind of technology. I was used to speaking what I felt, and not faking an online presence just so people would think I was cool, or happy with my life. The thing was, amazingly, I was happy with my life. Everything was so much more simple, and so much more complicated. And the thing that scared me the most?

I was starting to not want to go back home.

I mean, I knew that there was a chance that I wouldn't be able to go back anyway, but the idea of actually going back was starting to become less and less exciting, and desperate for me. It wasn't because I was starting to come to terms with my feelings for Boromir, or the fact that I had made friends here. My heart wasn't the reason that I was starting to rethink how I wanted to spend the rest of my life. It was the fact that, were I to go back, I would be forever changed. I wouldn't be the same young woman I had been when I had first woken up in the woods all those months ago. I wouldn't have any need for the technologies I had done without for so long, or I'd regress ad become more depressed than before. Not to mention I wasn't looking forward to essays, pop quizzes, tests, and exams all over again, either. Okay, maybe that was part of the reason I didn't want to go back; but the rest of the reasons were pretty sound, I felt.

"Are you pleased, here in Minas Tirith?"

Boromir's voice broke through my inner monologue, startling me. How long had I been sitting there, staring into space, thinking about me strange, messed up life? I blinked a few times, glancing back at him, trying to focus in on his face. I smiled politely, nodding my head.

"Of course I am; I love it here. I've always wanted to visit the White City." Well, that was true, at least. Having read the books, and seen the movies more times that I could count when I had been younger, Minas Tirith had always been a place I had wanted to visit, and see in real life. Now, having been able to live here, work here, and be within the walls of a city from my dreams, I had to admit I was quite happy. Boromir seemed to be waiting for me to continue, so I did. "You and your people, your brother and the soldiers, have been so accommodating. I feel very at home here."

He seemed satisfied with that answer. "I am glad that you are happy here, Kayla. It is important to me that you are." He smiled, and I felt myself flush, smiling back. "What would you like to ask me?"

We went back and forth for another hour or so, before Boromir decided to call it a night, and get some sleep, and I agreed. During our games, I had learned that Boromir was terrible at guessing games, and weirdly good at Rock, Paper, Scissors. His favourite colour was dark navy, and he did not like the taste of sugar, which had baffled me. When I asked him why, he had said it had reminded him of his mother, who had passed giving birth to Faramir. When he had ben a child, before his Faramir had been born, his mother and he had shared sweets together often, much to Denethor's disapproval. She had snuck him candies from the kitchens, and those moments had been bonding for them. Ever since she had passed away, Boromir had not touched anything sweet anymore, as the taste brought him painful memories of his long dead mother. He had also never gotten the opportunity to have them since her passing, either. He had become to preoccupied with looking after Faramir, and trying to appease his father's wishes, growing up as a soldier, that he had never bothered. I had wondered vaguely if I should try to find him some, hoping that it wouldn't trigger anything negative for him.

We had done little with the questions after that. I had wanted to ask him so many more things: if he was happy with how his life had turned out, if he had ever been in love, if he believed that we could win against Sauron. All these things I wished I had had the courage to ask, but I also knew that they were pretty invasive, and maybe not too appropriate to ask of him, so I had refrained from it.

Now he had gone, and I was laying in bed, watching the ceiling go slowly more in and out of focus, as I began to drift away into sleep, the memory of him seated across from me by the open window, his eyes trained on my face. I felt a smile tug at my lips, as I finally gave into the darkness.

* * *

The morning dawned cold, and I knew something was wrong. I woke to the sounds of a bell ringing, and I knew it could only mean one thing: the armies of Gondor were on the move. I shot out of bed like a rocket, yanking on some clothes, and tearing down the hall to see what was going on. While I was mid-sprint, I nearly ran over Pippin, who was immerging from the staircase leading up to his quarters.

"Kayla!" He squeaked in surprise, as we nearly fell over one another. "Did you hear the bells too?" I nodded, and together we raced down the hall together, towards the sound of voices. Raised voices. We burst into the throne room, just as Gandalf's voice broke through the many that resonated off the stone and marble walls.

"This is a rash decision, Faramir." The elderly wizard was chastising the younger ranger, who had his sword strapped to his hip, and his bow slung across his back. He looked ready to go into battle, and it frightened me. Gandalf paid neither Pippin nor myself any mind as he hurried up. I saw Boromir standing behind his younger brother, and his eyes caught mine as Pippin and I came to a stop beside the White Wizard. "I understand the armies are filtering out of Osgiliath, but to meet them on the battlefield would leave Minas Tirith open for potential invasion."

"Be that as it may," Faramir countered, his tone rather cold, which was unlike him, "we must defend our city. If we remain within the walls and attempt to attack them from a distance, they could draw only closer."

"This is what they desire, Faramir." Boromir's voice broke through the tension, and we all turned to look at him. "If we send soldiers, the city will be almost entirely unguarded. However," he added, as Faramir opened his mouth to protest, "should our armies meet them either on the field, or by the battlements, we will undoubtedly lose men, regardless of where we are." Boromir's face looked pained; he didn't like making this decision, and I couldn't blame him. People were going to die no matter what, it was just a manner of how, when, and where. There was a long, drawn out pause, before Boromir spoke again.

"Gandalf, I do not wish to go against you, but here I must agree with Faramir. It would be better to try and stop as many of them as we can on the battlefield, rather than close to the city."

It looked as though Gandalf wanted to argue, but instead he pursed his lips, and nodded once. "Prepare for battle, then. I will ride ahead and attempt to reach Théoden; they cannot be far." With a billow of white, he swept from the hall, leaving us standing in silence for a moment.

Boromir turned to a guard standing nearby. "Alert the men to prepare. Faramir," he turned to his brother, "Alert the people of Minas Tirith to do the same. Should our army be overrun, we will want the people to have a fighting chance, at least. Also, tell the guards guarding father to move him to a more secure location." His tone was so grim, and I felt a chill run up my spine as he said so.

This was real, this was happening. The battle, the one I had been dreading since day one, was beginning. Everything I had been preparing to do up until this point was going to be put to the test. I glanced down at Pippin, who looked just as terrified as I was feeling. The young hobbit looked up at me, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

"Kayla," he sounded so small, not including the fact that he was a hobbit, "we should go get our weapons, and practice more. You have the armour Faramir had made for you, right?" I did. Not long after we had begun sparring with Faramir, he had had leather armour with chainmail under parts made for both Pippin and I, should something exactly like this occur. I hadn't tried mine on yet, but it was not or never.

I nodded, "Yeah, I have it. Let's go, we should get ready." My voice was surprisingly steady, considering the circumstances, and despite the fact that my heart was trying to rip itself out of my breastbone. Pippin and I began to make our way out of the hall, when Boromir suddenly called out to us, and we turned back. The Gondorian Captain approached us, his face lined with worry, and grim determination. He stopped in front of us, and looked from me to Pippin, and back again.

"Stay within the Keep," he said quietly, "and stay hidden. Should they break into the walls, use everything Faramir and I have taught you. And," he added, looking at me directly this time, "be careful." Our gazes held for a moment, before he turned to leave, "I must go prepare for battle. Should I return," my heart twitched at this, "I hope to find you both alive and safe. Good luck to you." I could see how hard this was for him to say; I didn't think either of us ever imagined it happening like this, so abruptly, and so painfully. I wanted to say something, anything, to bring him some comfort, but I didn't know what. I don't think either of us knew what to say. He was almost out of the Keep, when I realized something:

This may be the last time I'd ever see him.

All at once it hit me like a tidal wave; Boromir could die today. He could die defending his city against these monsters, and I may never see him again. An outpouring of emotion washed over me, and before I could stop myself, I was running after him, calling out his name. He turned back at the last second, only to have me throw my arms around him, pulling him down into a backbreaking hug, crushing my face into his chest, and winding my fingers into his fair hair.

"Please come back," I rasped, my voice too weak to speak above a broke whisper. I felt his arms tighten around me as the words left my mouth, and he pressed his face into my hair. We stood like that for a moment, holding one another, when suddenly a horn blasted once. It rang clearly through the Keep; through the city itself.

It was time.

Boromir let go of me slowly, looking down at me. I felt words jump into my mouth, but I bit them back. I couldn't afford to distract him now, not during a time like this. I blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears that filled my eyes from falling.

"Kayla," Boromir's tone was filled with such raw emotion, and I felt a single tear escape. I gently placed a hand on his chest, looking up at him.

"Go," I whispered. I stepped away from him backing up to Pippin, who had come over to us during our embrace. "We'll be okay; Pippin and I have learned a lot – and worst case scenario: we'll hide." I forced a smile, trying to appear reassuring. "Now, go. And good luck."

Boromir looked as though he wanted to say something else, but before he could, the doors to the hall flew open, and several guards came rushing in, looking anxious.

"My Lord Boromir," one said, who I recognized as Ceden, his voice panicked, and his skin pale. Boromir approached him, his stature rigid and fearful.

"What has happened, Ceden?" Boromir demanded, "have they breached into the city?" Fear gripped my heart. Oh, God, had it already happened?

Ceden shook his head, his tone now sombre, and his eyes filled with pity. "No, my Lord, it is your father. He..."

A chill ran up my spine, and I felt Pippin go still next to me. Boromir stepped back, his shoulders slouching. I could feel something coming, like a train made of fire and ash. Something terrible had happened.

Ceden took in a slow breathe, "When we arrived to escort him to a safer area, he attacked Aerin. He took his dagger from him, and he..." His voice drifted, looking a Boromir, his eyes filled with despair, and all too soon I realized what had happened.

Boromir's voice shook when he spoke. "What happened, Ceden?" He didn't want to hear this, but he knew he had to. Ceden seemed to be working up the courage to speak, and when he did, his words cut into me like shards of glass.

"He plunged the blade into his own heart. Lord Denethor has killed himself, my Lord."

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 **A/N:** **Oh dear, what have I done now? Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I feel like the turn I took here will work well, and it'll all be explained in the next chapter! Apologise for the long time between updates – I have been so busy working full time! Even so, thanks again for the reviews and follows! Until the next update,** ** _mellons_** **!**


	24. Blood on the Field

**A/N:** **I'm back! I just realized that this story is nearing 35k views! My most successful story from a few years ago (2008 to be precise) is only at 44K views, which is insane! In less than two years, this guy is only about 10k away from being my most viewed story! Words cannot express how grateful I am for this. This story is my baby, and I'm so proud of it. I am nearing the final stretch, maybe only a handful of chapters left, and I can't believe it. How time has flown, and changed so much! I'll be sad to let this story go; but at the same time, all good things must come to an end. Anyway, sap aside, read on!**

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 **Disclaimer: ** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

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 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Twenty-Four**

 **Blood on the Field**

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Denethor was dead.

Boromir's father was dead. He had committed suicide. He had taken a knife, plunged it into his own heart, and died. He was gone.

Normally, if this had been in the movies, or the books, I would have felt joy, even satisfaction, at this. Denethor had been so widely disliked by fans of The Lord of the Rings, that his death in the novel and film had been something to relish in. Certainly, if he had committed suicide via dagger in either of those, rather than throwing his own burning body from the battlements, the populace would have still rejoiced, perhaps even deemed him a coward. Now, however, things were so different. I wasn't a fan anymore; I wasn't someone who picked up the books and browsed through them, or threw on the movies and marathoned them for over twelve hours. Now, I was someone who was living in this world, seeing all it did to people first-hand. Caring for those people first-hand... I couldn't be unbiased anymore. I couldn't ignore it. My heart broke for Boromir as he stared at Ceden.

"My Lord?" Ceden's voice was quiet, almost ashamed, as though he was somehow to blame for Denethor's demise. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, waiting for Boromir to say something. When he didn't, Ceden opened his mouth to speak again. Before he could, I held up a hand, perceptively silencing him.

"Don't," my voice was soft. I slowly crossed the threshold to where Boromir stood, stock still, his mouth open slightly; his eyes blank. I reached out; my hand gently brushing along his armour clad forearm. He turned to look down at me, his face slack, his jaw unclenched. I had never seen him so eerily calm. It caused me to shiver; it was unsettling.

"Boromir," my tone was so gentle, so calming. I slowly moved my hand from his arm to his cheek, running my hand along the rough beard that grew there, feeling the curve of his jaw, and the softness of his skin. Slowly, I drew him down into me, bringing him into a hug, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His head fell limply onto my shoulder. I could feel the questioning, nervous stares from Ceden, Pippin, and the others, but I paid them no mind. I gently ran my free hand along Boromir's back, and whispered to him, trying to keep my tone calm. "Boromir, you have to listen to me, alright? I know this hurts, God knows I know. I want to help you in any way I can to prepare a funeral for your father, okay? I will do all the work if I have to." I felt him shift as I said this. He pulled back slowly, and I could see the tears of regret, agony, anguish, and confusion swimming in his eyes. They clouded the grey of them, and I saw one escape.

"Kayla," his voice was hoarse, and I knew he was seconds away from losing control. At any moment, he could break down, and he would be of no use to his armies, his brother, or his people.

I stood back, holding him at arm's length. "Boromir, this may be harsh to say, but you need to be calm right now, alright? Yes, this is a terrible tragedy, but you know what needs to be done right now. You need to stay focused, alright?" His brow furrowed, but he said nothing. He hurt, I knew this, but I also knew he knew I was right. It sounded awful for me to tell him to not focus on the fact that his father was just killed himself, but Gondor needed him more than his emotions did right now.

He needed to stay in control right now; he couldn't afford to have his mind clouded. Yes, this was devastating news, and my heart was cracking, shattering, for him, but there were other tasks ahead right now. Similar to my loss of Bera, I had had to stay calm, and do my part, before allowing myself to succumb to my grief. Yes, Denethor was Boromir's father, and this was different from the loss of Bera, but the situation was just as, if not more, dire as before.

"Your people need you." I whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. "Gondor needs you." I paused before speaking the last part, my mind asking why I wanted to say it, but I ignored it. I stared up at him, my expression determined; fierce.

"I need you."

I didn't know what promoted me to say it. Perhaps it was because I knew that Boromir could possibly die in this battle; the likelihood of that happening much higher than before. Perhaps it was because I was finally tired of hiding how I felt. I knew I couldn't flat out tell him my deepest feelings, for fear of distracting him from the task at hand, but I figured I could at least tell him how much he meant to everyone, to me. He was a vital part of this war, and this battle, now. Everything was coming to a head, and everything needed to be executed as smoothly as possible, that much I knew for certain.

Boromir stared down at me, his eyes having widened a bit more, but he said nothing. I could feel everyone shifting uncomfortably behind us, but I ignored them. I didn't care that they were witnessing this moment between us. All I cared about what getting Boromir out of there, and onto the field of battle. It pained me greatly, knowing that I was willingly sending him into the fray, but I had to. I had to.

"It'll be okay," I said quietly, touching his shoulder gently. As I did, he started, seemingly coming out of a deep fog. "We'll handle everything when you get back, I promise. But you have to move, Boromir. You have to go." He seemed to hear me this time, and he nodded slowly. He had pulled himself from the hole in which he had nearly falling, hanging white-knuckled from the edge. He looked passed me at Ceden.

"Ceden," his voice was thick with emotion, but his posture held true, his shoulders back, and his jaw set. "Thank you for telling me of this; I will do all I can to make arrangements after the battle." I heard his voice crack, but he cleared his throat, and no one said a word. "Kayla is right: there will be a time to grieve, but that time is not now." He looked sideways at me. I could tell the harshness of my words had stung him, but he also knew I was right. There would be a time to grieve, but no one could do it now. Had I crumpled in on myself and allowed the loss of Bera consume me, as I had so desperately wanted to let it, I would not have been able to help the wounded and dying of Helm's Deep. I had been needed then, and Boromir was needed now. We had jobs to do, and as awful as it was to say, mourning the loss of family would have to wait. I only hoped he wouldn't hold it against me in the future, though I didn't foresee that happening.

Ceden and the others departed. Pippin and I exchanged a look, and I nodded to him. It was time. I moved to stand with the hobbit, and he stared up at me, his eyes the size of dinner plates. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and motioned for him to follow me. We had to get to higher ground, but remain indoors, in case the Nazgûl showed up, which I was expecting to happen. My dagger and sword were in my room, and I had to go get both to defend ourselves, if need be.

We were nearly at the door, when I heard my name being called. I turned back, and saw Boromir approaching. It was as before: all the emotions of knowing that I may never see him again hit me like a tidal wave. But this time I didn't let them come bubbling to the surface. Instead, we stood staring at each other. Boromir slowly raised a hand, placing it on my face. I said nothing, but we both silently acknowledged what may happen. He nodded once, and I whispered, "Good luck."

Then he was gone, and I was left standing in the room, empty like my mind, and echoing like the distant sounds of people running and preparing outside.

"Kayla, we should go." It was Pippin.

I forced myself to nod. "You're right; let's go. We'll be safer inside, at higher ground." We took off, hurrying through the throne room, and back into the corridors. We went to my room first, and I grabbed my dagger and short sword, as well as my crappy leather armour, that I knew wouldn't do much if an orc decided to pin me down and stab my thirty seven times in the chest. Not fun.

We exited my room, raced up the stairs and into Pippin's. As we did, I could hear the sounds of the bells ringing louder, and longer. Fear prickled across my skin, erupting into goose bumps on my flesh. I tried not to think about the fact that both Boromir and Faramir were possibly racing to their deaths. The thought brought me so much pain, and I tried to force it from my head. I stood at the entrance to Pippin's room, as he scuttled about, gathering a few things to help protect us. He was nearly done, and we were about to leave, when we heard it.

The screeching.

It pierced into my ears and very bones like white hot knives. I screamed, clasping my hands over my ear, struggling to blink the tears that had formed in my eyes away. Pippin was doing the same, though he had turned a new variant of white. Judging by his reaction, I began to realize what we were hearing.

Nazgûl.

Fear filled me to the brim. They were already here? How much time had passed? How many were already dead? Would Rohan get here in time? Would Boromir...

Boromir.

I whirled, staring blankly down the corridor. I wanted to rush out onto the field myself, and find him. I wanted to both fight alongside him, and yet also grab him by the ear, and drag him back into the safety (for now) of the city walls. I also wanted to run, and hide, or leave and never look back. I wanted to do so many things; so much so that I couldn't decide, and as such couldn't move.

It was then that Pippin grabbed my arm, and hauled me down the corridor, towards a series of doors I knew led to the darkened barracks. They were usually empty, save for a few soldiers, and filled with armour. There was also a staircase that led up to the roof, from where we'd be able to see the battlefield. There, we would be relatively save. Provided that no orcs scaled the walls, and no Nazgûl came swooping down.

We ascended the stairs quickly, making our way to the top, and bursting out into the sunlight. It was surprising that it was still sunny, considering I could smell smoke, blood, and fear in the air. Fire burned all over, and the distant sounds of battle could be heard. I was amazed that it had begun so quickly, and that already it sounded as though the walls of Minas Tirith had begun to be breached. There was shouting and running, and as I squinted, I could see civilians, soldiers, and the like scurrying around like ants beneath us. I felt my chest constrict when I heard the Nazgûl shriek again, the sound stabbing into my inner ear, as I clapped my hands onto either side of my head, a small whimper of pain escaping my lips. Beside me, Pippin was doing the same. This was literal hell on earth – well, Middle Earth anyhow.

When it had stopped, we hunkered down on the top of the barracks, clutching our weapons to our chests, waiting for anything to show up, or for it all to be over. It was eerily quiet now, with only the wind and the distant sounds of clanging to keep us company. I took a few breaths, slow and careful, trying to steady my pounding heart. Beside me, Pippin was as white as a ghost, his body shaking. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder, and the tiny hobbit looked up at me.

"Kayla, I'm afraid." He sounded so young, despite being much older than I, I knew. Hobbits aged very differently than humans. Pippin would be considered young by hobbit standards, but middle aged by humans.

I forced a gentle smile, "I know." I squeezed his shoulder once, looking out over the marble and stone, feeling tears of fear prick at my eyes, and my skin crawl as though it were covered with insects. "It'll all be alright, Pippin, I promise. Rohan is coming, I know they are. Aragorn wouldn't let us be left with nothing. And besides," I looked back down at him, "Boromir and Faramir are excellent fighters; they'll lead the their soldiers well. They'll be safe, and so will we."

Pippin nodded slowly, seeming to accept my words, but said nothing in response. I felt my temple throb with an oncoming headache, but I tried to ignore it. I had to stay alert and calm for Pippin's sake. If something was to make it up here, I would be the only thing standing between he and it. Chances that the armies of Mordor still thought that all hobbits were somehow associated with the One Ring was likely. If they saw a hobbit, the likelihood of them trying to kill or steal Pippin was high, and I would be damned if I let that happen.

We continued to sit in silence for a few more moments, listening to everything happening down below; the shouting, clanging, killing, and dying. It hurt my heart to know that Boromir was out there, and that Rohan may not show up in time. I tried not to think about it, but my mind still put thoughts of him being shot, stabbed, or trampled into my brain. I felt a few tears of terror leak out, and I dashed them away quickly. However, not quick enough, it seemed, since Pippin saw me do it.

"Kayla, are you alright?" He asked, his voice kind and gentle. It made me want to cry more."

I gave him a watery smile, trying to stay in control. "I'm fine; don't worry." He nodded, and we lapsed back into silence once again. We were seated on the cool ground, leaning up against a wall. Pippin had his curly little head resting on my side, and I had my arm around him, like mother comforting a child. After what seemed like an age of silence, listening to our soundtrack of destruction going on below, Pippin spoke again.

"Kayla, can I ask you something?"

I looked down at hi, surprised by the comment, but replied nonetheless. "Of course, anything."

What he said next threw me for a loop, nearly making me gasp in shock. "Are you in love with Boromir?"

I pulled back, staring down at him with surprise, and mild horror. "I'm sorry, what?"

The hobbit fixed with me with a stare, his gaze not breaking; he wasn't backing down. "Are you in love with Boromir?"

I floundered for words. I had never expected anyone to ask me such a thing. I had not vocalized to anyone my feelings for Boromir, and that had always been my intention. No one knew, no one needed to know. It would only complicate things. I cleared my throat quickly. "Pippin... I..."

He sighed audibly. "Kayla, just tell me." We were alone on the rooftop, above the barracks. There was no one around to hear me speak; no one around to judge me, except perhaps Pippin. I felt my mortality rear its ugly head again, and my chest tightened. If I were to die today, would I want to knowing I had never been able to admit to anyone, let alone myself, how I felt about Boromir? How I had felt for so long now? I stared down at my friend, who was watching me expectedly, and took a breath in.

"Yes."

Silence hung between us. It felt as though fireworks were going off inside of me. I was in love with Boromir. I loved him. He had somehow managed to burrow into my heart and make a home there, as horribly corny as that was to say or think. But yet, I loved him. I had tried to deny it; to tell myself that it wasn't right, and that nothing would come from it. I had tried to tell myself it was too soon, and I was being stupid. But, in the end, my heart knew better than my brain what I truly wanted; how I truly felt. I was in love with Boromir, and despite the raging blush happening on my cheeks, it felt good, almost liberating to say aloud, finally, after so long.

Pippin look at me carefully, and I waited for him to laugh, or judge, or do anything that I usually expected most people to do; what I was used to most people doing. Instead, he surprised me by saying simply: "I thought so." His smile was a bit wider, and I flushed.

I looked away, feeling my cheeks burning, and my ears ringing. "What made you ask? Was I that obvious?" I peeked at Pippin from the corner of my eye.

He shook his head, curls bouncing. "No, not in the beginning." He looked up at me, and I looked down at him, with effort. I hated talking about my feelings. "But lately, I've seen how you two look at each other; how much you care about him. And how much he cares about you."

Whoa, what? I blanched, holding up my hands. "Hang on, what? You think Boromir cares for me, too?" No way, what? How. No. What? My brain couldn't process it. Sure, he was kind to me, and yes there had been that instance in the inn where we had almost kissed. But he had been tired then – not in his right mind. And yes, he was kind to me, but that was because I had saved his life; he was grateful. But now... With what Pippin was saying...

Pippin gave me such a look, I nearly started laughing. It was mixed with disbelief, exasperation, and annoyance. "... Really? Kayla, it's so obvious. Anyone could tell you that; I'm sure if you asked Faramir, he would agree. You saw how he looked at you before he left."

Huh, go figure. I probably looked calm on the outside, but my inner self was doing cartwheels, screaming like a giddy schoolgirl. "I guess... Yeah. But, why ask now? What prompted it?" I didn't really want to know, mostly because it embarrassed me, but I figured I should ask.

Pippin shrugged nonchalantly, "You're worrying about him; I can see it." I narrowed my eyes, and I saw him smile. He patted my hand, "And, if this is where we may die, it's best to admit the truth, and not leave this world not saying it."

It hit me hard, that statement. Pippin had a point, and he was thinking in the same way I was. He was right – it was better for me to admit it now, then die and not admit it to myself. I had felt it for so long, and even just saying it now, I felt as if some invisible weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and thrown away into the wind. It was as if I could finally take a full breath, like something had been holding my lungs tightly for weeks. Just then, another thought occurred to me – one that made me sad.

I turned to look down at Pippin, before looking away slowly, feeling my emotions wreaking havoc inside me. "Do you think I should have told him before he left? I was considering it. But..."

Pippin cut my off by placing a tiny hand over mine; I felt my lower lip quiver, but I didn't give in. "No, I don't." His voice was firm; it was the most serious I had ever heard Pippin speak – it was so unlike him. "I think you were right to not say anything; he needs to focus, you were right in telling him that."

That made me feel better. I gave him a grateful smile, before adding: "But you got me to say it out loud, just in case?"

He nodded, giving me a small smile back; it reassured me a bit. "I did."

I leaned over, resting my head on the top of his. "Thank you, Pippin."

His small hand squeezed mine once. "You're welcome, Kayla." There was a pause before he said softly, "I think, when this is all over, you should tell Boromir how you feel. Assuming that..." His voice trailed off, and I knew what he meant. I also knew he was right. It had been a long time coming, and I knew I should say something, if...

I took a breath. "I know. I'm glad you're here with me." My voice was so quiet, I wondered if Pippin could even hear me. "I'm scared too."

We stayed in silence for a few more minutes, my heart pounding, for more than one reason now. It felt like hours had passed, and maybe they had. The sun was getting higher in the sky, sometimes shining through, and other times being shrouded by smoke and ash. The sounds of battle continued, and we stayed there, huddled together, trying not to think about what could be happening.

Things were starting to feel very bleak, when I suddenly heard it: three short blasts. It reminded me so much of the sound that Boromir's horn had made when I had first met him, that for a moment I was confused as to where I was. But then I heard it again: one long blast, and I realized why I recognized the sound...

Before I could say anything, Pippin leapt up, running towards the edge of the top, looking out over the battlefield. "Did you hear that? The horns? I think Rohan is here!" He whirled to face me, motioning for me to follow, and I did, hurrying up to look too. I had to squint, since I wasn't wearing my glasses, but the sight was unmistakable.

In and amongst the chaos going on at the base of Minas Tirith, I could see a huge army, clad in gold and brown, charging from the East towards the armies of Mordor. It was Rohan; thank God. I knew it wouldn't be long now until Aragorn showed up with his undead army, as well. That would be a cool sight to behold, but I knew it was better for me to be up here, rather than down there.

I breathed a sigh of relief, smiling down at Pippin. "Thank God; I feel better now, how about you?"

He nodded, looking happy. "I feel better too."

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good; we should stay here for a while longer, then it should be safe to head back down and watch from a closer vantage point."

Pippin was about to reply, when suddenly there was a sound, and it was unfamiliar. It sounded like the sound of rushing water, or wind.

I felt a chill run through me. "What was that?" I let go of Pippin, stepping slowly away from the edge of the roof, back towards the wall, and into the shadows. Pippin follow suit quickly, calling after me.

"I don't know; I didn't see anything."

I motioned for him to be quiet, and he quickly obliged. We crouched down by the wall, near the door. The roof was large, large enough that several guards could spar up here, or hold council, and whatnot. Where we were, we were hidden from the south facing side of the roof, as a few pillars jutted up, blocking the view of the mountains, among other things. As we waited, the sound got louder, and all at once I realized too late what it was.

The flapping of wings.

Panic hit me like a tidal wave. I grabbed Pippin and shoved him down lower. "Oh my God; Pippin, get down, don't move." I hissed through my teeth, fear gripping me in its icy embrace.

Sure enough, by the edge of the rooftop, something was coming. I saw its head first – one of the beasts the Black Riders, the Nazgûl, rode. It elongated head, worm-like neck bending back and forth against the wind, came swivelling up, being directed by its rider, one of the fallen Kings. But it wasn't the fact that a Nazgûl was here that was what was terrifying me. It was what it had brought with it.

It the talons of the flying creature carried two orcs, clad in armour, and holding weapons. It was dropping off scouts to enter into the city, breach into the throne room no doubt, and take Minas Tirith from above. We had to warn someone.

I slowly turned to Pippin, as the orcs were dropped into the roof with a resounding crash. "We need to get out of here. Sneak back down the stairs. Come on." I pointed to the door behind us, as the flying monster was ridden away, probably going to get more orcs to fly up there. Pippin nodded, his eyes wide with fear. We both silently drew our weapons, just in case, and made slowly for the door. As we began to push it open, just as in the movies it creaked loudly on his ancient hinges. I let out a gasp before I could stop myself, and we both whipped around.

The orcs were looking right at us, and they were advancing quickly.

I didn't even think with what I did next. I kicked the door open all the way, grabbed Pippin by the scruff of his tunic, and threw him inside. "Pippin, RUN!"

We tore down the stairs, back into the lower barracks, and down the hall. I could hear the orcs behind us, screaming in their native language, armour rattling like death, and weapons scraping along. I had never been so scared in my entire life.

We made it back into the throne room in a manner of seconds, tearing across the threshold. When there was a decent amount of space between us and the orcs, I whirled back to face them, holding my sword ready. Pippin stopped running ahead of me, turning back, and seeing what I was doing.

I would be damned if I let these monsters break into Minas Tirith. I had my training, and it was time to see what I could do. Pippin seemed to feel the same way, because he was next to me now, his weapon out, staring the orcs down alongside me. The beasts were watching us, with what I could only take as amusement. They grunted to each other, and began to charge.

I took out my dagger and, without even stopping to think, threw it as hard as I could. I had practiced throwing knives and daggers with Faramir a little bit, and my aim wasn't terrible. After seeing Éowyn take out an orc by simply throwing a knife, I had wanted to try my hand at it.

To my amazement, the dagger found a mark: the throat of the closest orc, and imbedded itself within its jugular. Black blood went everywhere, and it dropped like a sack of potatoes. I let out a small shriek as it did, both amazed and horrified. In a million years, I would never be able to do that again.

The other orc didn't seem fazed by the death of it companion, because it kept charging at us like a rabid animal. At the last second, I side stepped, and Pippin did the same. The orc ran between us, nearly hitting the pillar behind us. I raced forward, as did Pippin, giving us some distance between it and us. As it composed itself, the orc whirled back, letting out an ear-splitting roar, before charging again. This time, I stood my ground.

It was getting closer, and at the last second, Pippin screamed, "Kayla, watch out!"

I side stepped quickly, something Faramir had taught me, and as I did, I plunged my sword into its back, letting out a small scream as I did, letting go of the hilt as though it had burned me. The orc went down, spluttering blood from its back and mouth, landing in a heap beside the other orc. I stood, staring down at the dead things, my heart hammering against my ribcage. When I had regained composure, I turned to hurry over the Pippin, stepping over the bodies, with them laying mere inches behind me.

"Pippin, are you okay?" My voice shook as I spoke.

He looked just as shaken as I was. "I'm fine. Are they dead?" He looked past me at the two orcs, black blood pooling beneath them like ink.

I looked back, wrinkling my nose in disgust. "I think so, yeah. I stabbed that one pretty deep; the other one has my dagger in its neck – he isn't getting any up time soon." I turned back to Pippin. "We should get out of here, and get to lower ground to warn the others of their attempt here. Hopefully we get there in time."

Pippin nodded quickly. "I hope so, too; if Rohan is here, do you think Merry is with them?"

I shrugged, trying to remain positive. "I don't see why not; I hope he is. I know how much you've missed him." Pippin started to smile, when suddenly his eyes began to widen again, looking past me. I felt fear grip my heart when I heard movement from behind me, but as I turned, I stopped.

"Augh!" The sound came out of me without my consent, almost as if it as ripped from me, just as the dagger, my dagger, that had likely punctured one of my organs ripped into my side. The orc holding the dagger, which had been in its back moments before, let out one last, watery, choked cackle before collapsing in a heap, dead, finally.

The pain was unbelievable. It felt like someone had stuck a white hot rod into my flesh, and was slowly searing my insides. I couldn't take a full breath in. It felt like one of those terrible stitches you get while running, except this one was also causing blood to come gushing out of me. My vision blurred, and I felt my legs give out.

"KAYLA!"

Pippin's scream sounded muffled, as I felt the ground rush to meet me. My head slammed into the marble floor, cold to the touch, except for where my blood was now warming it. Red mixed with black, and I could feel my strength slowly dwindling. Fuck, it hurt...

I was dimly aware of Pippin kneeling beside me, taking my face in his small hands. I could feel wetness dripping on my face, and I realized he was crying. I struggled to say something to comfort him; anything at all, but I couldn't speak; I couldn't think. It hurt so much – why did I feel so cold?

"Kayla, no. Please, no. Stay with me; stay awake." Was that Pippin speaking? Why did he sound like my mother? I missed her so much. "I'm going to go get help, just stay awake. Please, Kayla. Please..."

And then there was nothing at all.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hahaha, oops? Don't kill me, please. There's still more to come!**


	25. White Houses

**A/N:** **I can't believe that I am nearing the last few chapters of this story... It makes me both sad, and excited! The bad boy is nearly two years old! I never thought I'd still be writing this thing two years later, let alone have the patience, and effort to continue it. Neat.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for _Lord of the Rings_ belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Twenty-Five**

 **White Houses**

* * *

I awoke with a start. Everything hurt. It felt like I had been kicked in the ribs about eighteen and a half times. My chest felt tight, and my mouth was so dry if could have been the Sahara Desert. My tongue felt like it had turned into a huge wad of cotton, and judging by the amount of crust clinging to my eyes, it felt like I had been asleep for a generation. With great effort, I struggled to sit up, my mind wiping away the fuzziness from my head and eyes, as I tried to remember what had happened, and where I was now.

I was laying in a bed, covered in a thin, white sheet. It provided little warmth against the cold air that seeped through the open stone window nearby. The curtains around the best billowed about like the robes of a ghost, and I felt a chill run through me. I strained my eyes in the dim light of the room, lit only with a single torch by the door, possibly to allow me to rest. As I look around, I saw a pitcher, clean, and clear as crystal, filled with water, and a cup beside it. Parched, I lunged for the cup.

I started screaming. The pain was unbelievable. It felt like someone had ripped a hole in my side –

Suddenly it all came back to me. The battle, the two orcs, and the one that had shanked me in the side. I looked down, gingerly lifting up the white nightgown I now realized I was wearing. Who had dressed me? Who had brought me here? I didn't want to dwell on it as the shirt was lifted, and I saw the crude bandaging of my side, feeling the gouge sting as I did. Dark blood had soaked these bandages, and I wondered, and hoped, that they had been changed. I really wasn't looking forward to a potential infection. I made a mental note to ask for some hot water and a clean cloth, and I would clean it myself. Not that I didn't trust the healers to do a good job, it was just that I was from a different time and place, and knew a bit more about cleaning than they did.

I carefully pulled the shirt/gown back down, and moved my body at a snail's pace, making it to the pitcher, and shakily poured myself some water. I gulped it down like an animal, before wiping my mouth clean, and drinking more. It was then that I realized how badly I had to pee.

Now, let me begin by saying that trying to pee in a chamber pot when you've been stabbed is not easy. How do I best describe this? It's like trying to do anything when you have a terrible cramp in your side. You know the one I'm talking about. The one that literally feels like you've been stabbed in the gut (I know, the irony). Every breath is pain, and every movement feels like it could be your last. The stitch that basically wants you to just kill yourself. Even simple tasks like peeing is hard. Really demeaning, trust me.

Somehow, and let me stress the somehow of this statement, I managed to get myself onto the chamber pot, and emptied my screaming bladder. God, did it feel good to do so. It felt like I had been holding in my pee for days, weeks even. Once I had finished up, and struggled to get myself tidied up, washed my hands and face in the nearby basin, I dragged myself back into bed. I lay down, and gingerly lifted the shirt again, examining my wound more thoroughly.

It appeared that someone had managed to semi clean the wound, and beneath the bandages was a crude attempt at stitching me back together. There were ugly stitches lining the stab wound, which in and of itself wasn't very big, maybe an inch and a half in length. It could have been a foot wide, considering how much it still stung like a bitch, making me wince when I moved any which way. It would be a few weeks, maybe even a month, before the wound was fully healed. I was going to have to avoid any strenuous activity until then.

I began to feel my eyes growing heavy, as I began to drift back into sleep. Christ, I was exhausted. A few more hours couldn't hurt, I was sure.

* * *

I awoke a few hours later, I suspected, as sunlight was beginning to stream through the windows now, and the air was much less cold. I guessed that I had originally awoken at dawn, when the sun had only just begun to rise. Now, by the looks of things, it was the morning, maybe around 9am or 10am. I lifted myself up, and already I felt better. My side was still aching and sore; I knew that a few extra hours of sleep wouldn't fix anything, but I also knew that cells repaired themselves faster when the body was resting. So, ergo, the more rest I had, the faster I'd be back on my feet. For now, however, I wanted to see what had happened with the battle.

I pulled myself out of bed, and hobbled across the threshold, wrapping my sheet more securely around my body. There were no clothes nearby for me to dress into. I was going to have to limp around in my sheet and nightgown until I found someone who knew where my things were.

I poked my head out of the door, looking down the hall. I didn't recognize this part of the keep, if that's even where I was. The halls were dark, lit only with dim torches, but the white glow from the curtains hanging from open windows gave it an eerie feel. I strained my eyes, struggling to see in the dimness. I began to exit the room, when I heard footsteps. I froze. I could see, at the end of the hall, a glowing light beginning to get slowly brighter. Someone was coming.

Instinctively, I stepped backwards, returning back into my room. I shut the door as quietly as I could, slipping back into bed. I wasn't sure why I was suddenly so nervous, but as I pulled the sheets over my face, in order to poorly hide, I heard my door open. Carefully, I peeked out above the sheets to see who it was.

My heart nearly beat its way out of my chest.

Boromir was standing in the doorway, surveying me. He looked a little worse for wear. There were deep circles under his grey-green eyes, and a deep cut along his cheek. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and I saw his knuckles were bruised and cut up. But nothing, and I mean nothing, compared to the look he had on his face when he saw me sitting up, looking at him with disbelief on my face. He was alive.

"Boromir?" My voice sounded so weak by comparison to the screaming going on inside my own head. I struggled to sit up, but did so too quickly. I felt a stab of pain shoot through my side, and I gasped aloud, falling back onto the bed with a very unladylike grunt.

Almost as soon as I did, Boromir was across the room in a second, and was gently helping me sit up. I was in so much pain, my brain didn't even have time to register that his hand was low on my back and, were I in a better place mentally, I'd have been utterly losing my shit. Instead, I weakly allowed him to lay me down in such a way that I was propped up on the pillow. I was thankful that the wound was much less gross now, and merely achy. But still, stabby achy was not a fun feeling.

"Kayla, are you alright?" Boromir's voice held deep concern, and I focused in on him, forcing a smile.

"I'm fine, I'm okay. Are you okay?" I gently removed his hands, and leaned back on the pillow. "What happened? Did we win?"

Boromir retrieved a chair from the other side of the room, bringing it over, and seating himself next to me. He began to nod as he spoke. "We did, yes. The battle is won. Rohan arrived, and together, along with the help of Aragorn and an Undead force, we drove back the armies of Mordor. We march on the gates of Mordor within the week."

Relief, but also worry, washed through me, and I had to force a smile. "I'm so glad to hear it. Thank God." My eyes travelled to his cheek, and I slowly reached out to touch his face. Boromir slowly leaned into my touch, and I felt a chill run through me. "Are you okay? That looks like a pretty nasty cut."

Boromir removed my hand with ease, putting it softly back down on my lap. "I will be fine; but enough about me, Kayla. I came to see you. How are you feeling?"

I shrugged, and looked down at my midriff, that was somehow now showing, as the nightgown had ridden up on my paler than usual skin. "I'm alright, I think. My side hurts, but I'm alive, and that's what matters." A thought crossed my mind, "how long was I out?" I asked slowly, looking up at Boromir.

The Gondorian looked pained. "Three days, Kayla."

Holy Hell, no wonder I had been so thirsty, and had to pee so badly when I woke up. I had been asleep for three days? How much blood had I lost? Jesus Christ on a piece of toast.

I stared at him. "Three days? Christ." All too late I realized what I'd said. Boromir raised a brow?

"Christ? What is that?"

I paled even further, "Nothing," I said quickly, struggling to change the subject. "Was anyone else hurt? Aragorn? Legolas? Gimli?"

Boromir's confusion turned grim again, and I felt my heart flutter in worry. "We had a number of casualties during the battle, yes." His voice was low, and it looked as though it cause him great pain to discuss this. "Aragorn sustained minor injuries, as well as Legolas and Gimli. Ther others, however, were not so lucky."

Fear gripped me. "What do you mean? Boromir, who's dead?"

He shook his head, "No one, thankfully. But not for a lack of trying on the enemy's part, I will admit." He sat back in the chair, lacing his fingers together. He looked the perfect image of a Lord, and I felt my heart flutter for a whole other reason. "Lady Éowyn was gravely injured during a fight with the Witch King himself. He is dead because of her. She is here in the Healing Houses, as well."

Ah, so that was where I was. No wonder I didn't recognize anything. I was in the Healing Houses of Minas Tirith. "Is Éowyn alright?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Boromir nodded, "She is awake as of this morn, and will make a full recovery."

I nodded, "Good, I'm glad. Éowyn is a dear friend, I'd hate if something happened to her. What about the others?"

"Faramir was injured as well. He took an arrow to the shoulder, but he will heal well, according to the healers here. Merry was also injured, but is being tended to by Pippin as we speak."

"So, everyone is alright, then? Nothing too serious?" I had a hard time keeping the joy from my voice as I spoke. I was so glad that, despite my seemingly best efforts to royally fuck up the entire plot of this world, no other casualties had happened.

"Well, except yourself, Kayla." Boromir's voice held something in it that I had never heard before.

"Boromir?" I said softly, "Is everything alright?"

He leaned back in the chair, looking at me. It was then that I could see the raw pain in his eyes. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, were that even something Boromir would ever do. "Kayla," he began slowly, "I am so sorry."

Huh? "Sorry? For what? Boromir, you didn't do anything wrong."

He shook his head, "You were ambushed, and we did not leave anyone with you to keep you guarded. It was a foolish move on my part. I should have left someone with you to keep you safe. Had I done so, you may not have been injured."

I stared at him. Oh my god, he was blaming himself for me getting hurt? My heart ached, and I stared at him, my mouth hanging slightly open from shock. "Boromir, are you kidding?"

"No, Kayla, I'm not." His tone was firm, and he looked tired, hurt, and also something else. "When my guards informed me that Pippin had came and told them what had happened, I feared the worst. They wouldn't let me see you, you condition was too severe. I had to wait a full day before I was allowed to come see you, and even then you were not awake. They said you had passed out from blood loss, and it was unlikely when you would awaken." His voice sounded strained, and I heard a crack in it that nearly brought me to tears.

I reached out to take his hand in my weak, cold one. He squeezed once, and I whispered, "Boromir, I..." I was at a loss for words. What could I possibly say that could ease the torture he had been put through for three days?

"I have come here several times a day ever since, to see how you are, and if you had awoken. This morning, it would seem I was lucky." Boromir's voice held weariness, but also relief. I smiled gently, and he returned it.

"I guess so," I said softly. We sat for a moment in silence, before I asked, "Have you been to see Faramir at all? I hope you didn't fret over me too much."

He nodded, "I have. The first day I went to see him as well. He was awake, and told me to tend to you in the meantime, and I have."

My eyes widened, "Wait, when you say "Tend to me", does that mean you were the one who changed my bandages, and got me out of my armour?"

There was a heavy, and very awkward, silence now filling the room. Boromir didn't meet my gaze for a moment, before answering. "The healers did on the first night, but they had so many to tend to, that I offered to help afterwards."

I stared at him, screaming internally, and quite possibly about to externally. "So... What you're saying is... You saw me naked?"

I saw colour rush to Boromir's cheeks like blood on white snow. "Not in that sense; I was tending to your wounds – "

"Yes or no?" I managed to choke out.

He looked anywhere but at me. "Yes."

I was mortified. Everything sounded like my heart that was banging against my ribcage at a speed so rapid, I could go into cardiac arrest at any moment. Boromir had seen me naked. HE HAD SEEN ME NAKED. Oh, God, oh my, GOD. I was literally about to lose my shit, when Boromir suddenly spoke, and what he said made me nearly faint.

"If I may say so, Kayla, to help you feel better..." He refused to meet my gaze as he said the last part. "I did not mind."

I stared at him, and before I could stop myself, I burst out laughing. It was not the reaction I myself, and I'm sure Boromir, had expected. He stared at me as I was laughing, and when I had calmed, I wiped a tear from my eye, and looked at him. "You didn't mind seeing me naked, did you?" I couldn't stop the goofy smile from spreading across my face as I spoke.

Now it was Boromir's turn to laugh, and that seemed to ease the tension in the room as we both sat there, laughing like idiots. I wasn't sure why exactly we were, but I wasn't going to start complaining.

Boromir paused to take a breath. "I will admit, it has been some time since I have seen a woman unclothed. Despite it being under unpleasant circumstances, I will not say that seeing you in undress was unpleasant. The wound, however, was very distracting." I snorted, and he did as well. I had never seen Boromir so at ease before, I liked it. Laughing certainly helped draw my attention away from the pain in my side. At that, however, I remembered that I had been stabbed, and I winced, my hand moving to the wound, my eyes beginning to water a bit.

Boromir's mouth changed to a straight line, and he looked ashamed. "My apologies, Kayla. I should not have made you laugh so hard. You are still healing." He motioned to get up, "I should let you rest." As he began to stand, I reached out, catching his hand in mine, pulling him back to he was seated on the edge of my bed. Boromir looked at my curiously. "Kayla?" I realized I was staring at him.

It was now or never.

Boromir was leaving to Mordor in less than a week now. Hell, it could even be tomorrow. I was laying here in bed, having almost been killed, not knowing a the time if he was dead or alive. Pippin had flat out asked me if I was in love with Boromir, and I was. I could admit it to myself now. I loved him. How long I had, I did not know. But, I knew that I was in love with Boromir of Gondor, son of the late Denethor, and brother to Faramir.

I took a breath. "Boromir, there's something I've been meaning to tell you..." I sat up, so my face was level with his; so close... Before I could continue, Boromir spoke.

"Kayla, I – there is something I would like to say, as well." He looked down, and I felt his hand slowly take mine in his. I watched as his eyebrows knitted together, and he seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Never had I never thought I would see Boromir as flustered as he was right now. "We have been through a great deal together, you and I. There was a time that we did not get along, I remember. But, that time feels like another life. Now, I cannot imagine myself not being able to speak with you every day." He looked up at me now, and I was certain I had the most ridiculous look on my face. I tried to speak, but he held up a hand, indicating that he wanted to continue, and I firmly shut my mouth.

"When I was told that you had been injured, and were in serious condition, I feared the worst. My thoughts went to you not surviving, and the thought of that... It tore me apart, Kayla." I saw a thin film of what looked like tears appear over his eyes. "Kayla," he took a breath, and all at once I knew what was about to happen, "what I am attempting to say, and in a very poor way, is that... I..." our eyes were interlocked, and I could feel his grip on my hand tightening.

I looked up at the man whose life I had accidentally saved all those months ago. The man I had travelled across Middle Earth with. The man who had saved my life countless times. The man who had given me a life.

Suddenly, none of it mattered. I had been trying to deny my feelings for Boromir for so long, and only had finally come to terms with them. I had spent so many nights worrying. He had been living inside my head for so long, and now I could see that I'd been living in his. There was no sense in trying to pretend anymore. There would be no perfect place to tell him; no perfect scenario, and no perfect time. I mean, after all...

Timing's a bitch.

I stared up at him, knowing what I wanted to do, what I'd always wanted to do ever since I realized how I felt about him, and what I wanted to say. I felt my lips curve in a smile that I had not felt in a long, long time, but one I had always known was there. I reached out and touched his face, slowly caressing his cheek with my other hand, before putting it on the back of his head.

"I know."

And then I drew his face to mine, and kissed him.

It was like a billion fireworks went off inside my head. The internal screaming became an internal cheer, that rose higher and louder than any I had ever heard. I could hear a thousand voices screaming, "FINALLY!" As we kissed.

Boromir's hands moved to my face, cupping it in them. My hand on the back of his head fisted his hair, deepening the kiss, as he did the same. I moved slowly, as to not aggravate my wound, and inched closer to him. I pressed myself into his chest, and one of his hands moved to my lower back, holding me there against him, gently, to firmly. His lips were rough, just as I imagined, but they felt amazing against mine. His movements were slow and deliberate, making me see stars. Man, if I wasn't hurt right now... That goddamn nightgown would be on the floor faster than a speeding arrow.

Without thinking, my tongue gently traced his lower lip, causing him to groan into my mouth, and it sent a chill through me. His breath sounded laboured, as did mine, as we grabbed at one another, making out like two crazed teenagers, but not so much as I was injured further. Finally, we had to come up for air, but all too soon.

We broke apart, and stared at each other. It took a few seconds, but we then both broke into nervous laughter. I giggled, biting my lower lip, and my eyes crinkling in the corners. Boromir was smiling, and we both seemed at a loss for words. Boromir was the first to speak, and he sounded out of breath.

"Finally." He said it with a half laugh, half sigh, and I felt my grin getting wider.

"Finally." I repeated the word, and his smile grew, as he gently drew me into him, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead, before drawing me close into him, holding me against his chest. We stayed like that for a few moments, before Boromir slowly let go of me, allowing me to lay back down. I was still healing, and we both knew that. He stood now, finally, looking down at me.

"I cannot tell you how long I have wished to do that, Kayla." His tone was soft, and warmer than I had ever heard it.

I blinked back tears that I assumed were of joy. "Me, too."

He reached out, squeezing my hand once more. "I will let you rest, but I will return later to see how you are. I will tell the healers to have some food sent to you, as well." We exchanged a soft smile, before he moved towards the door. Before he exited, he turned back to look at me, and there was a smile on his face that held something else.

"Rest well, _Lady_ Kayla."

I had to keep from laughing again, and bit my lower lip instead, smiling widely, my heart full.

"Thank you, _Lord_ Boromir."

* * *

 **A/N:** **HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FINALLY, AM I RIGHT? IT ONLY TOOK ME WHAT, TWO YEARS AND 25 CHAPTERS? You're welcome, fandom. I love you all. This was short, I know, but I had to get this fucking thing out. We were all waiting for it, and dammit, I couldn't wait any longer, either. Stay tuned for the next update!**


	26. The Plot Thickens

**A/N:** **Ahoy, Tolkien fam! I have returned. I am so excited to announce that, as of May 24th, 2017, this story turned two! I am so grateful for those of you who have been here since day one, and also for those who have come along since! You guys give me life. Thank you. I am so close to finishing this story, my god. I am so excited. I've got maybe another four chapters? Maybe five; I've yet to decide. I'm moving in August, so I am trying to decide if I want the story done by then, or not, we shall see! Either way, get ready for fluff, maybe some smut, and a whole heckin' amount of action!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Twenty-Six**

 **The Plot Thickens**

* * *

Three more days passed, and I was finally well enough to get out of bed. Boromir came to visit me every day, three times a day, and spent at least an hour with me each time. Every visit consisted of him asking how I was, if I needed anything, and trying to make me a comfortable as possible. He also insisted on changing my dressings himself, which meant he had to nearly see me topless, which I knew gave us both massive sexual tension. I would not deny it, were I well enough, I'd have climbed him like a tree.

Instead, each visit began and ended with a soft, gentle kiss on my lips, and then one on my forehead. It never went any farther than that, and honestly, it was something I was mildly grateful for. One, I knew I could possibly be injured further if we had sex while I was still healing, two I didn't want to risk pregnancy or anything, were that even possible, and three, Boromir needed to focus. It was already enough that he had told me he loved me, and I had replied in kind, but he even admitted himself that his mind was less than sharp because of it. I was a distraction to him, albeit a good one, as he said, but still a distraction. The march on the Black Gate was fast approaching, and he needed to be ready. Boromir had even gone so far as to suggest he remain behind and guard the city, but I knew it was also because of me, and that pained me greatly. I would of course be glad were he to stay, but also feel immensely guilty. He had to go, as much as that would hurt.

My wound was slowly starting to heal. I had managed to change myself without further aggravating the injury, and even the crude stitches were starting to do their work. The stab wound was slowly closing up, the blood becoming crusty and yellowed, as the skin tried to seal itself back together. I asked Boromir if he could cauterize it, but he refused, saying it would be too panful for me, and that he didn't want to hurt me. I had whined, but eventually complied.

Now, they were preparing the assault on the Black Gate, to keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon them, rather than on Frodo, who, according to Gandalf, had made it into Mordor. He couldn't see him anymore, meaning he was shrouded beneath the darkening shadows of the evil place. It was only a matter of time before they made it to Mount Doom, and destroyed the One Ring, once and for all. For now, they meant to draw out the armies of Mordor, and be the biggest, bloodiest distraction ever.

Meanwhile, Aragorn, I heard, had accepted his position as future King of Gondor. He was preparing to lead the attack on Mordor, as both a member of the Fellowship, and also as Gondor's King. I heard he would wield the blade of Isildur himself, and charge into battle like the warrior, ranger, and leader he was. I was so proud when I heard these words, especially since they came from Boromir, who was nearly glowing with pride while uttering them. It was pretty cute.

It was getting late in the day, and I hadn't seen Boromir yet. The sun was getting high in the sky, and before too long, it would be sundown. I had left my room some time before, and was wandering around the Houses of Healing. Yes, I was able to move about easily enough, but I was still injured, and had sustained bruises in addition to a stab wound. I wanted to stay in relative range, as to avoid any further aggravation of the damage to my body. I was glad I still had a room to myself, something I was certain was Boromir's doing, in order for me to rest better. I had managed to get some reading, doodling, and daydreaming done. Not to mention it gave Boromir and I some much desired alone time when he came to visit me.

I came to the exit of the Healing Houses, and peered out over the courtyard. Thankfully, the Healing Houses were at the same, if not close to the same, level as the palace, so it made access to Boromir, and my friends, that much easier. I had run into Pippin the day before, and he had told me that Merry, Éowyn, and Faramir would all make full recoveries, which gladdened me greatly.

I could see soldiers milling about, getting ready. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that they were leaving today...

Shit.

I hadn't even considered that they might be leaving that very day for battle. I figured I still had a few more days, maybe two at the most, before they set out for Mordor. It was already getting late in the day, could they really be leaving now? I didn't want to risk not knowing, and missing my window to say goodbye to Boromir. Now that everything was out in the open, I'd be damned it he left without saying goodbye, or without me at least kissing him once more. I loved him, and he loved me, and we both knew it, dammit. I wasn't going to let it end like this. With great effort, I set out towards the palace, where I knew Boromir's office was. I needed to talk to him and figure out what was going on.

I hobbled up the steps, nearly tripping, and cursing to myself as my side throbbed. I was going to regret this later, but I didn't care. I pushed open the doors to the palace, entering the keep itself, and made my way down the hall. I could hear voices ahead, and recognized Aragorn's in amongst them. They were getting closer, and I figured they were leaving whatever room they were in. Sure enough, a door to my left opened, and Aragorn and Éomer exited a room. They both stopped short when they saw me, and Aragorn's serious expression changed to a kind one, as did Éomer's.

Aragorn spoke first. "Kayla, how are you feeling?"

I forced a smile, despite feeling nervous still. "I'm alright, still healing away." I looked between them, seeing how tired they both looked. "How are things? Everyone seems to be getting ready to move." I didn't want them to tell me what I already knew, but I knew I had to hear it.

Aragorn's mouth was set in a grim line, and he looked much older than I had ever seen him. If he was eighty-seven now, he could have at least been a hundred or more. "We are. We march on the Black Gate in the morning."

I paled. So soon. "You do? Are you ready? Is there news of Frodo?" I tried to keep myself calm by asking questions I already knew the answer to. That way it kept Aragorn preoccupied answering, while I could formulate a plan as to how to see Boromir before he left.

Aragorn and Éomer exchanged a look, before Aragorn spoke again. "None, unfortunately. But Gandalf is certain he is within Mordor, as he can no longer feel his presence."

Worry prickled at my skin. "Could that also mean he's...?" I didn't dare finish my sentence, because Aragorn was giving me a look that said not to. He looked pained, but also irritated that I would even think such a thing. However, when he spoke, his tone did not convey it.

"I don't know, Kayla, none of us do." The ranger, and future King of Gondor sighed deeply, and seemed to deflate a bit. After a moment, he regained his composure, and stood taller, seemingly feeling better, or at least pretending to for the sake of everyone else. "For now, however, we must do what we can. And if that means keeping Sauron's Eye upon us, so be it."

I swallowed the lump threatening to choke me. "Okay." It was all I could muster, as I struggled to keep my mind from wandering to anything more morbid.

Aragorn placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing once. "We must depart, there is still much to do. You will come see us off tomorrow?" He knew I was stressed, and I knew he was, too. We had to try to make light of this situation as best as we could.

I fixed that same, forced smile on my face, trying to retain some of my humanity. "Of course I will." I took a breath then, finally getting the guts to ask what I had been wanting to know since running into them. "Where is Boromir, by the way? I wanted to talk to him before he leaves, too."

"He left us for his quarters some time ago, after he visited with Faramir." Éomer spoke for the first time now, his face also not unkind, but not unstrained, either. "Perhaps he is preparing himself; you will find him there, I'm sure."

I nodded, stepping aside to allow them to pass. They had a lot of work ahead of them. "Thank you, and take care, both of you. I'll see you in the morning."

Aragorn gave me a tired smile, as did Éomer, "Goodbye, Kayla, take care of yourself." We exchanged one final nod, before parting ways, and I was left to stand alone in the hall, with nothing but the sound of distant echoes to keep me company.

* * *

I wandered up the hall, taking care to be as silent as possible, so as to not draw any unwanted attention to myself. I had to find Boromir, and soon. I wanted to be able to say a proper goodbye to him, before God knows what would happen. I didn't want to think about that possibility, either, because it scared the shit out of me.

I walked up the halls, climbing stairs with little ease, having to stop every few seconds to take a few shallow breaths, struggling to bear through the pain from my stab wound. Finally, I came to the door of Boromir's quarters, mere doors away from my own. I hadn't been in my own room in days, seeing as I was still partially crippled from my injury, and had to stay within reach of the healers, should things go sideways. I missed my room, with the high ceiling, and balcony, allowing me to survey the land, breath in the air, and have time to myself, without having to hear the sounds of the sick, injured, and dying, only steps away from me.

I stared up at the darkened door, its wood also like a pit, not unlike the one slowly growing in my heart. I felt dread as I looked up at it, part of me wanting to just turn and run, and not allow myself to feel the impending pain of Boromir walking away, going to Mordor, and possibly not coming back. The other part of me wanted to throw myself at him, wrap my arms around his neck, and spend the little time I had left with him before he had to go. Sadly, I couldn't decide which I wanted more. Before I could make a choice, the door opened, and Boromir was standing there, looking a bit surprised to see me.

"Kayla?" His tone was pleasantly surprised, but also concerned, most likely due to my expression of frustration.

I went with the second option.

My arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him down into me, despite the screaming pain in my side. I had been conflicted until I saw his face, and heard his voice. How could I have even considered being so selfish? How could I have thought of not being with him, the night before we could possibly be separated for good? I loved this man, and I knew that now more than ever before. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, below his chin, and against his jawline, inhaling his scent. He didn't even speak as I did; he merely wrapped his own arms around me, pulling me by the waist against him, careful of my wound, despite my small whimper of pain. We stood like that for a moment, before breaking apart, staring up at each other.

"Hi," I said meekly, a shy smile forming on my face.

Boromir's own face broke out into a smile. "Hello," he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, "how are you feeling?"

I pulled back, looking up at him. "I'm fine; but that's not why I'm here, Boromir. I know you're leaving tomorrow." My brow furrowed, and I swallowed the lump threatening to form in my throat. "I was hoping to come see you, and see if there's anything I could do to help, before you have to..." My voice trailed off, and Boromir took that opportunity to speak.

"I have finished all I must to do prepare. Are you hungry, Kayla? Let us have something to eat." He gently moved passed me, gesturing down the hall. He shut the door behind us, and I followed him as he led me down the hall, through a side passage, and into a garden, off and away from the rest of the Keep.

It was beautiful; it was an almost courtyard setup, with a patio-like base, and a small balcony, over looking the fields of Pelennor. It reminded of the scene from the extended films when Éowyn and Faramir had spoken, before declaring an unspoken love to one another. Only, in this case, our love was declared, and this wasn't the films; this was real, and for a brief moment, I was content. I noted the small white table and chairs set up; I figured this place was probably used for meetings, or discussions amongst friends, or even somewhere one could come to read. Either way, despite all the hell breaking loose elsewhere, this was a place of peace and tranquillity, at least for the moment.

Boromir spoke briefly to a nearby guard, who nodded once, and vanished. He then came to join me, as I had wandered to the edge of the garden, and was staring out over the fields. He drew me into him as he came up behind me, and I felt his breath on my neck, and his cheek on my hair. We stood in silence for a moment, before he gently turned me around to face him, and away from the impending doom that was Mordor in the distance.

"I've asked the guard to have some food brought to us; not too much. Just some cheese, fruit, bread and wine. Will that be sufficient?" My stomach grumbled, and I nodded enthusiastically, and Boromir smiled. He gestured to a chair, and I sat down, as did he. As we did, a handmaiden appeared with a pitcher of wine, and two goblets, all silver, placed them on the table, curtsied, and left. Boromir reached for the pitcher, and poured us each a glass of dark, red wine. He handed me mine, and I took a slow sip. I didn't much care for wine, but I'd drink it when offered. I wished I had some water, and made a mental note to ask for some when someone reappeared. It was almost like being in a restaurant. By now, after months of being in Middle Earth, I was getting used to being waited on – I still didn't like it, but I was used to it.

I took another sip, and saw Boromir watching me from over his glass. I felt my cheeks flush, and I put my goblet down. "What?" I asked, a shy giggle making its way into my voice.

He simply shook his head, his own smile wistful. "It is nothing; I am just marvelling at how beautiful you are."

I nearly choked on my wine, before putting down the goblet a little harder than anticipated. "Oh, um, thank you, I think." I blushed furiously, and Boromir chuckled.

"You are welcome."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes, not looking at one another. For two people who had been so capable of talking before, things felt a little strained now. Were we both afraid of saying something to the other? Were we both now awkward teenagers in love? Christ, this was a lot harder than I remembered. Fuck.

Boromir broke the silence first, thank God. "How are you feeling?" He gestured to my wound, and I looked down at my side, feeling a slight ache and twinge. Three full days of rest had done wonders for my aches and pains, bruising and all, but the actual stab wound would take ages to heal, weeks probably. I'd have a nasty scar by the end of it all.

I looked back up at him, trying to feign toughness, so as not to worry him. "It's alright; I'm alright. It's sore, but that's to be expected, I guess. It'll heal, it'll just take time. I'll just have to continue taking it easy while you're –" I stopped short, realizing what I had been about to say. My heart fluttered, but not in a good way, and I looked back down at my hands, now folded in my lap. Boromir looked as though he wanted to speak, but said nothing. A few handmaidens arrived with a few plates of food, placed them on the table, and left. I picked up a piece of bread, nibbling on the end. Boromir was surveying me, looking tired and sad. We ate in silence for a few minutes, considering we were both probably very hungry. After a few much deserved bites of food, Boromir spoke again.

"You do not wish for me to go, do you?" The question caught me off guard, and I looked up sharply, staring at him.

"Huh?" God, I sounded stupid. Stupid, Kayla.

His smile was pained, but also sincere. "You do not wish for me to go with the others to the Black Gate." It wasn't a question anymore; it was a statement, and he was right.

I sighed, looking down at my hands once again, before placing them on the table, and fixing him with a determined look. "No, I don't want you to go. I want you to stay here, where I know you're minutely safer, and be with me, so that we don't have to ever be separated again, because I know you want that too."

Boromir looked momentarily stunned, before replying. "You know I do, Kayla." His tone was so soft, so comforting, but I pressed on before I allowed myself to become lost in it.

"But, I also know that you have a job to do, and a duty to uphold. Your people need you; Aragorn needs you. And, despite how much I need you, too, I also know what's right." Boromir stared at me, not saying a word. He reached over the table, taking one of my hands in his, bringing it to his lips, and kissing it softly. The action sent a wave of different emotions through me, and goose bumps erupted on my skin.

The sun had begun to set, and a bright, orange glow began to envelope the garden, bathing us in its light. My skin turned red and pink, mostly from the light of the fading sun, but also due to Boromir kissing my hand. It would be dark soon, and with darkness came sleep, and with that came Boromir's departure. Without warning, I yawned. I must have been tired, and not realized it until now. Boromir took note, and gently released my hands.

"You look tired, Kayla. Perhaps I should take you back to your room. I should rest myself, tomorrow is fast approaching."

I felt a lump begin to form in my throat, but I swallowed it down furiously. "Yeah, you're right. We should get some sleep."

I allowed him to rise first, and pull out my chair for me, helping me to stand. We left the balcony, and what would be our last meal together, possibly forever, and the beauty of the garden and the sunset behind, shutting ourselves back into the darkness of the corridors, and moving down the cool hall, towards my room. We left the keep, moved across the courtyard, all in complete silence, and re-entered the healing houses. We passed rooms filled with the same injured and dying as before, before we came to my door. When we came to a stop, I turned to face Boromir.

His expression was just as sad and tired as mine, and we looked down at one another, not speaking. There were no words to say; none that needed to be said, anyway. We both knew what sunrise would bring, and it worried us both in different ways. I looked away first, struggling to find the right words. Boromir saw me do it, and reached down, turning my face to look at him.

"Look at me," he said gently, and I looked up, my eyes blurring with unshed tears. There was so much I wanted to say, and so much I didn't know how to say. I knew I needed to say something, or risk regretting it forever.

I chewed my lower lip, sighing, and looking down. "Boromir, I..." I looked back up, "I don't know what to say." My brows furrowed, and I blinked rapidly, trying to stem the flow of tears that had broken the barrier of my lower eyelids. Boromir saw the tears fall before I could stop them, and his face crumbled. He drew me into him suddenly, not speaking a word, and pressed his lips to mine.

Something changed in me then, and I could not describe it even if I wanted to. It was like a light switch got flipped, as lame as that sounds, and everything in my body came to life. Sparks shot to the tips of my fingers, and down to my toes, and lightning arched up my spine, causing me to lean into Boromir's embrace more fervently than I intended. My breath came out in a low gasp, and I found my arms reaching up, and fisting his hair, drawing him closer. He didn't seem to mind, as Boromir's grip around me tightened, and his mouth opened wider to accept my tongue as it gently caressed his lower lip. His groan sent another wave of light throughout me, as I clung to him as though I would drown otherwise.

We broke apart to breath, and stared down at one another wordlessly. Without even thinking, I reached behind me, opening the door to my room, and throwing it wide. Boromir looked passed me, and into the room, then back down at me. His expression was unlike anything I had ever seen before. His grey eyes had darkened to a roaring storm, and his jaw was black. His grip on my waist tightened, and he suddenly pushed me backwards into my room, kicking the door closed behind him as he did. We were now in my room, alone, door closed, in silence, staring at each other. Boromir looked passed me to the bed, and I turned, doing the same. We stared at the bed, empty, unmade, so inviting, and yet...

Boromir approached me, gently taking my hands in his. "Kayla, is this what you want? Are you healed enough?" His genuine care for my well being nearly brought me to tears on a whole new level. Where I was from, consent was a touchy subject at best, as many well knew, sadly.

I stared up at him, my insides churning, wondering if what I wanted, what I was about to do, was the right decision. I bit back my reply that could damn me, and instead I felt my face changing into a smile so large I thought my skin would shatter. I could feel joy, love, and passion building like a bomb inside me. I gently reached up, taking his face in my hands. "Kiss me." I whispered, and Boromir, who looked momentarily shocked, changed to a smile of his own, and obliged.

We moved to my bed, wrapped in an embrace to shame all over embraces, fisting one another's hair, tongues going crazy, our breathing hot and laboured. Boromir gently lay me down on the bed, like a parent lowering their baby into a crib, keeping his hand behind my neck in order to continue to kissing me. As he lowered me, my dress, sheer and thin, was removed, to reveal my naked form beneath. He marvelled for a moment, not saying a word. This was the first time he had seen me naked wherein I wasn't having bloody bandages changes. My wound was still there, visible, and angry looking, but not as bad as it had been.

I slowly reached for him, diverting his attention from my wound, to my face, drawing him to me once again, taking his lips in mine. This time, he did not pull away.

* * *

The night passed in a bit of a blur. I couldn't recall when we had finally slept, but we did, wrapped up in one another, without clothing, breathing deeply. It was the best night's sleep I had had in what felt like years, despite what the morning could bring.

As far as the sex had gone, it was easily been the best of my entire life. I'd only had sex with three people before Boromir, and I didn't really count my first, seeing as we had lost our virginities' to each other, and during our time together, only really had sex maybe a handful of times. Also, it hadn't been that good, but whose first time ever was? That was of no fault of our own, it was just life. The other two people I had been with had been more experienced, but even they couldn't compare to Boromir in any way, shape, or form. And yes, I meant that in the quite literal sense.

Boromir was attentive, gentle, slow, and passionate the entire time. It felt like I was high on as many sensory heightening drugs as humanly possible, and I had had to stifle my screams a few times. This seemed to have please him greatly, because it was after only maybe ten minutes that he had had to stop. That was the first time, anyway.

Not only was Boromir an incredible lover, but he was also immensely respectful. Every time he had "finished", he had not done so inside of me, either, to prevent pregnancy. That was the last thing either of us needed right now, and while the risks of getting pregnant even with the method we used were still prevalent, we were at least making some effort.

Now, as we lay in the haze of "after love", drinking in the morning light, I heard a horn blast. Boromir started first, jostling me, causing me to hiss in pain. My wound hadn't been too aggravated, but I was sure I'd end up with a few new bruises by the end of the day... Not that I minded, but still. I rolled over, looking at him.

"It's time, isn't it?"

He looked grim, but nodded. "It is; I must depart and retrieve my armour. Will you come see us off?" I knew he wanted me to, and I knew I wanted to, despite how painful it would be. I swallowed once, and nodded, which seemed to please him. He placed a gentle kiss on my head, before getting out of bed. I lay there, watching him, taking in all that he was. He was the man I had come to love so completely, and the man who now loved me back. If he came back... No, when he came back, maybe we could... Start a life together? Was that even an option? Would he want that?

Boromir left to get ready, and I was left in the silence of my room. Twenty minutes went by, and still I remained a statue. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to drown out the noise from the outside, the sounds of horses, men, and war. I scrunched up my face, screwing up my eyes, and driving the heels of my palms into the sockets, breathing deeply. I took a few deep, slow breaths, counting up to five and back down, before I had finally stilled my heart long enough to get out of bed.

I swung my legs over the side, drawing the blanket up to my chest, covering my nakedness. I wasn't ashamed, just cold as balls – the room was really draftee today. I pulled on my typical plain, grey dress that I had had since arriving in Minas Tirith, ran a brush through my mess of hair, washed my face, hands, and neck, and headed out the door. I slipped down the hall, away from the Healing Houses, and out the door. I made my way down the steps, passed the courtyard, passed the keep, and away from the top of Minas Tirith. I could hear the rumbling of voices below, and I knew the city was gathering to bid farewell to the soldiers off to fight Mordor at it's core. The knot in my stomach tightened as I descended into the heart of Minas Tirith.

I came to the base finally, worming my way around people, and making for the head of the crowd. I saw the soldiers were already making their way out of the city, starting with the main group, then ending with Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf, and the others. I watched, holding my breath, not daring to move a muscle. I knew Boromir was coming, and I had to be ready.

Finally, the end of the train came, and with it came the Fellowship. I saw Gandalf first, clad in his white robe, glowing like a beacon of hope. Merry and Pippin road with him, wearing armour fit for a child, and breaking my heart as they passed. They both saw me, and Pippin smiled gently, and raised a hand in greeting, which I returned slowly, forcing a smile. He was trying to be reassuring, but it didn't lessen the tightness inside of me. I looked passed them, seeing Aragorn, clad in armour that looked foreign to him, wearing a cloak, and his hair done back. He carried Isildur's sword on his hip, and it gleamed in the light of morning. He met my gaze briefly, and nodded once, which I returned in kind. Legolas and Gimli came next, seated together on a horse, both looking worn, yet ready. They two acknowledged me. I made my nods curt and respectful, but I was looking passed them, too. I was looking at Boromir, who came down from behind them, atop his horse , his jaw set, clad in armour that, despite covering most of his body, I could still see his eyes, grey and brilliant, scanning the crowds, until...

They found me.

Our gazes held for a moment, and before I could stop myself, I found my feet gained a mind of their own. I was propelled forward, racing towards him, breaking through people, nearly tripping over my dress. He saw me coming, too, and dismounted as quickly as he could, just in time to catch me as I threw my arms around his shoulders, holding him closely. Behind us, I could hear the murmur of voices, some filled with pity, others with distain, and some with praise, saying that they were happy for us both. But I didn't care about them. I only cared about him.

"Come back to me." I whispered in his ear, as I held him, and as he held me.

He inhaled my hair slowly, his arms tightening. "I promise." His voice broke slightly, and it nearly killed me. I took a breath, knowing what I wanted to say, and knowing I had to say it.

"I love you."

It sounded to weird to say allowed, seeing as I hadn't said it in years. I hadn't even said it to my last "boyfriend", if I even counted the last guy I dated to be such. But now, saying it to him, I had never meant it so much.

Boromir's grip tightened to iron, as he sighed into me. I could hear the unshed sob shake his nearly unbreakable form. He whispered to me, and I nearly broken down. "Oh, Kayla. I love you."

I squeezed my eyes shut. It was time; I had to let go. I slowly relinquished my grip on him, as did he. "Goodbye." It was the hardest word I had had to say while being here. If he died while in Mordor, the likelihood of his body coming back intact was low, and I wouldn't be able to say a proper goodbye. I struggled for a moment, before stepping away.

And then he was gone, and the courtyard was empty. People began to file away, back to their homes, or to help continue to clean up the damage from the previous battle. Others left to no doubt care for their loved ones, the dying and injured, once again. I remained in the courtyard, myself, watching the fields of Pelennor, watching the army slowly vanish into the horizon.

Then I broke into a run, tearing back up through the city, and back to my room. I had never run so hard, or so fast, in my entire life. A journey that would normally take thirty minutes at best, took me only ten. By the time I was back in my room, I tasted blood, and I knew I'd regret running so hard later. But for now, I didn't care. I rushed to the window, craning my neck, and peering out, straining to see the fields, the army, and the man I loved.

I watched until the army was nothing but a small, black mass in the distance. I watched until they disappeared behind the ruins of Osgiliath. I kept watching, even when an hour, or perhaps more, had passed. I kept watching, waiting, and hoping. I prayed even, to a God I was convinced at this point didn't exist. I prayed to anything, and everything. He had to come back, he had to. It was not, after so long, that I realized, above all else, I didn't ever want to be apart from him again. I watched, wishing I had clairvoyance, so that I could see him, even beyond the walls and mountains. I watched until my eyes burned from the unblinking agony of unshed tears. I watched until my legs threatened to give out.

And then I threw myself onto my bed, and allowed my grief to consume me.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Two years old, my goodness. Does anyone even read these little notes a the beginning and end? I hope so; I think I'm funny, sometimes. Either way, thanks again, enjoy!**


	27. Stormy Skies

**A/N:** **I am back! With yet another instalment of my beloved story. Thank you again everyone who has been reviewing, as per usual. It means so much to me! I appreciate you all. Read on!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.**

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven**

 **Stormy Skies**

* * *

I was in the midst of perhaps the worst existential crisis I had endured in my short time of being alive.

It had been one full day since the army had left for Mordor. I had spent the better part of an hour crying over the fact I may never see the man I loved ever again, and the fact that I would probably never see my family again, so if Boromir died, I'd be completely and utterly alone in this unfamiliar world. Despite living here for months now, I was still not used to everything, and it pained me. I felt so safe with Boromir, like I could confront anything. Without him here, I was feeling more lost than I had in weeks. I felt so out of place, and I didn't know what to do to make it in any way, shape, or form, better than what I was dealing with now.

The existential crisis had started when, and I wasn't proud of this, I had ventured to the top of Minas Tirith, to the edge of the courtyard, to the drop where, had someone jumped, they'd have fallen thousands of feat to there death. I had stood, teetering on the edge, my feet, unclad in shoes as I was still in my throws of angst, curled over the marble and stone ground, watching the wind and smoke as they swirled me, like beckoning fingers. Now, yes, the thought of suicide had crossed my mind once or twice since coming to Middle Earth. There were days where I had missed my family and my old life so much, that the thought of living without them and it was almost unbearable. Especially when I had found out that there was little chance I could go home at all. But, as always, I had not acted on it.

Suicide was a very selfish way to end one's life, and I had actually known two people in my lifetime who had done just that. One of them had been someone I had gone to high school with, actually. He had been such a kind person, and he had died broken, scared, and alone, despite being surrounded by a family who loved him, and a fiancée who was now distraught and alone herself. It had broken my heart when I had heard the news, but as sad as it had been, it had also helped me to think on what I'd be giving up, were I to do it. Had I done so here, in Middle Earth, I'd have left behind the man I now loved, and the things I had learned. In fact, the last time I had thought of it, toying with the idea, however briefly it had been, Boromir had been the one to cross my mind, which had, I believe, saved me in the end.

As I had stood on that edge, wanting all the pain, loneliness, and uncertainty to stop, he had crossed my mind yet again, and I felt my heart warm, despite only for an instant, enough to make me step back. I couldn't be so weak anymore. I had to be strong, for all those who had died during this awful time, and for those still alive, risking their own lives to protect ours. It had been then that I had decided I wouldn't cry anymore. I finally decided to grow a pair, so to speak, and get my shit together. Boromir was out there, defending his people, his home, and his planet, from forces so powerful and so evil that they would see us crumble. I had to be stronger than this, than them, than myself – or the self I had come to know.

I had dried my eyes, spat over the edge, spitting on my weakness, and former self, before turning away. It was then that I had begun to question everything; everything I knew, and everything I had thought was fact. Thus began my current existential crisis.

I questioned my own sanity, and my own character. I questioned who I was before, and who I had become while being here. Even if I was able to return to my own world, would my family even recognize me? I was so different not, in both mind, and not to mention body. Yes, I had more clarity of who I was now, and the kind of woman I wanted to be. But, I was no longer a young twenty-something little girl, who lived at home with her parents, sheltered away from society, never having even held a weapon, let alone a dagger she had used to kill another living thing. I had never even broken a bone, and now I had crude stitches from a healing stab wound. I didn't even go to the gym back home, and now I walked and rode everywhere, my body more lean and toned than anyone in my living family, and my skin more tanned than anyone, either. I had come here pale, soft, and afraid. Now, I was here darker than before (tan wise), hardened, and stronger. And you know what? I was glad for it.

My existential crisis came to an abrupt end, then, and as I turned my back on the ledge, on death, and not fear, I felt my heart beat a little faster, and the breath temporarily leave my lungs. I was winded, and I stood in the courtyard now, clutching a marble stone, gasping for air. The moment passed as quickly as it had begun, and just like that, I was back to normal, albeit a little bit oxygen deprived.

I decided to go visit Faramir and Éowyn, in the other parts of the Healing Houses, and see how they were both doing. I knew that this was nearing the part in the story where the two fell for each other, and my heart swelled with joy for them. They had both been through so much. While I was glad it didn't appear that Théoden had died, I knew Éowyn had probably seen some horrific things while she had been unconscious after her murder of the Witch King. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain she had gone through, both physically, and emotionally.

I came to the Healing Houses after a few more moments of trudging, wanting more so to go back to bed, but also knowing I had to be a good friend, and see how they were. Boromir would've wanted me to, and I knew I should. It was the right thing to do. I entered the Healing Houses, the area in which I had not stayed, as I had had a private quarter. Now, I was back in my old room, thankfully. Here, there were those who were injured, sick, and dying, from either the ongoing war, the recent battle, or disease. It was here I would likely find Faramir and Éowyn.

I approached a nearby healer, a woman clad in white and grey, similar to how Aedre had dressed, back in Edoras. My heart momentarily panged for her, missing her friendship and tutelage. I swallowed my sadness; today wasn't about me, it was about my friends, and furthermore, my now kin.

I tapped the healer on the shoulder, and she turned to me. She was middle aged, perhaps forty or so. "Excuse me," I said politely, "I'm looking for Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn."

Her semi-withered face broke into a kind smile; laugh-line surrounded her eyes. "You will find them both in the gardens, miss. They have not spent much time apart as of late." There was a twinkle in her eye as e spoke those words, and my heart swelled with joy.

"Good," I struggled to keep that joy from bubbling over, "that gladdens me greatly. Thank you." She pointed me in the direction of the gardens, and I took off in a hurried, albeit careful, jog, so as to not aggravate my wound. I practically leapt up the stairs, my shoes making soft tapping noises on the stone, and down a corridor, coming finally to the garden. There, I saw to distinct figures, one clad in white, her golden hair down, and the other clad in dark grey. Their heads rested against one another, and their hands intertwined. My heart filled with joy, and this time, I could not, and would not contain it.

"Faramir, Éowyn!" My voice rang out clear across the garden, and I raced forward, my side twitching briefly.

They turned as I did, and Éowyn saw me first, her face breaking into a huge grin, as Faramir spoke in confusion, but nonetheless seemed pleased to see me. "Kayla?"

I beamed as Éowyn stepped forward, pulling me into a tight embrace. "It's so good to see you."

I squeezed her tightly, once, before pulling back, "You too; both of you." I looked between them, and all at once my joy faded, to be replaced with pain for them both, at all that had happened. "How are you feeling? I'm so sorry for everything you both went through."

Faramir shook his head, gently placing a hand on my shoulder, and smiling warmly at me. I felt comforted; Faramir always put me at ease, something like an older brother. "We are fine, Kayla. But, how are you?" His forehead creased in worry, and his eyes drifted down to my evidently bandaged side, obvious through the sheer fabric of my blouse. "I heard what happened, Boromir told us everything. I am so sorry. We should have left more soldiers within the city. I did not think they would try to breach the walls as they did." His other hand up and squeezed my other shoulder, before letting his hands drop.

I shrugged, trying to appear casual, as though I was unfazed at nearly dying via stab wound. "They may be mindless beasts following the orders of a giant, flaming eyeball, but they do still have brains in those disgusting heads somewhere, I think." The corners of both Faramir and Éowyn's mouths turned up at that statement. "It didn't surprise me that they tried," I continued, "but I didn't think that one would get the upper hand on me, let alone stab me." My side ached at that, but I ignored it.

Éowyn smiled down at me, "The important thing is that you are well now, Kayla. I am so glad." A curious looked crossed her face, and I felt myself start to flush. "I hear you have been well taken care of..." Then she winked. Éowyn winked. The White Lady of Rohan winked at me. Éowyn. Winked. Oh, my god.

I fumbled for my words. "Oh, yes, well, ehem. I'm doing much better, thank you." I looked anywhere but at them, and they both looked as though they were repressing laughter. I quickly changed the subject. "How about you both? Healing alright?" A thought struck me, and I had to supress the urge to smirk. "I've heard you've been spending quite a lot of time together." Ha, take that.

Their expressions didn't waver. "We have, yes." Faramir looked at Éowyn, and they shared a small smile. For a moment, I was irritated that I had been unable to embarrass them. But, seeing how happy they were, I felt my heart swell. I smiled wider than I had in ages.

"I'm so happy for you both. Éowyn is a good woman." I smiled at her, and she returned it in kind, her face so changed from the woman I had met many months before. "And," I added, looking between them both, "this will bring Rohan and Gondor that much closer." I turned to Faramir, "Boromir will be thrilled, Faramir."

The younger brother smiled, "Thank you, Kayla. He is, I have already told him."

I blinked, surprised. "You have?"

He nodded, his face still calm, so content. "He visited often, before he left. Usually after he tended to you."

I knew I was blushing at that comment, and I stared down at my shoes, not daring to let them see how embarrassed I was still. "How... Sweet of him. I suppose he told you...?" I looked back up, praying that he hadn't, as I'd probably die right there of sheer awkwardness.

Faramir's mouth twitched. "Kayla, the whole of Minas Tirith must know by now. The two of you were not exactly quiet when..."

I paled, and threw my hands up, nearly losing my shit right there. "Okay! Okay, you made your point, oh my god." I swear, if Boromir came back alive, I was going to kill him.

Faramir shook his head, smiling with ease. "You mistake my words for irritation, Kayla, they are not. I am very happy for you both."

Éowyn nodded, looking Faramir to me. "As am I, Kayla. You deserve happiness."

I was back to looking down at my shoes, unsure of what to say. Finally, I looked back up, my face contorted in both gratitude, and anxiousness. "Thank you both, that's so kind... It's just... I'm so worried."

Faramir stepped forward, his posture gentle, comforting. "We all are, Kayla. They will come back, I swear it." When I said nothing, he added, "You know, when yourself and Boromir first arrived in Minas Tirith, he and I spoke for many hours that very night. Do you know what he told me?"

I shook my head, unsure if I wanted to hear what he had to say. "No, I don't."

Faramir began to smile. "He told me how, when he had first met you, he could not have imagined that this woman who had saved his life could ever be his friend, let alone someone he could love."

I rolled my eyes so hard I figured everyone in Middle Earth could hear it. "Charming."

Faramir held up a hand, laughing softly, and I shut up. "He then told me that, after spending many weeks at your side, travelling with you, fighting alongside you, and speaking with you, that that changed. He knew when you both arrived here that he loved you, Kayla. He told me that."

My heart nearly stopped. I couldn't believe he had said that. Had he said that? Oh my god. I was the luckiest woman in the world.

I finally found my voice. "He... He did?" Good Lord, my voice was shaky.

Faramir's smile widened slightly. "He did."

Suddenly, my eyes were burning. "Well, excuse me, I have a whole other reason to cry my eyes out now."

Faramir's face fell slightly. "Oh, Kayla. He will come back." I was suddenly drawn into a tight hug by the young captain, and I slowly relaxed, before he let go, looking at me at arm's length.

"How do you know?" I whispered, my voice sounding so small.

"I don't." Faramir's tone was final, simple, and yet somehow I felt better. "But all we can do now is have faith. If we lose ourselves in our grief, what are we if not beings of despair and sadness?" Damn, he had a point, I'd give him that. If I wallowed, it could consume me. "You are strong, Kayla, and so is he." Faramir looked down at me, smiling. "You will endure."

We parted ways then, and I bid them farewell, parting ways then. I returned to my quarters, and sat myself on my bed, staring out the window, my eyes scanning out over the landscape, wondering where Boromir and the others were, and when they would be coming home. I struggled to fight the urge to cry again; I was done with that. I was done with sitting around, feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I picked up a book from the nearby shelf, and immersed myself in the histories of Middle Earth. If no one knew when the armies would return, there was no sense in worrying, and driving myself crazy in the meantime.

* * *

It was the morning of the third day when it happened. Or was it the second? I wasn't sure. I didn't know how long on foot it took for the armies to get into Mordor, let alone make it to the Black Gate. Either way, I was just waking up from yet another semi fitful night's sleep, when I heard the bang. Well, I didn't just hear it, I felt it.

It was like a nuclear blast set off from an atom bomb. The curtains in my room billowed in the raging winds, and scalding air shot through them like fire. I leapt out of bed like a bat out of hell, and flew to the window, ripping the curtains apart, and throwing myself to the balcony's edge, staring into the distance. I didn't need my glasses for what I saw, far and away in Mordor.

Sauron was defeated. And when I say defeated, I _meant_ really dead. As in the air was filled with red and death and smoke and also the most beautiful sight I had ever seen: Freedom.

As I looked out my window, no longer could I see the angry red colour of Mordor; no longer could I feel the chill in my skin and bones from the evil that resided there. No longer did the world feel a little darker, just by looking towards such a place. This, I knew, could only mean one thing...

They had won. It was over. The One Ring, the one thing that has caused so much strife, death, and destruction, for so long, was gone.

It was over.

I exhaled so quickly from a breath I didn't know I had been holding, that I felt lightheaded. I had to sit down on a chair I had had put on the balcony, and my hands clutched on another, my skin feeling tight, cold, and smooth, like stone. It was finally over. The entirety of this plot, of this world, had come to an end. But, did that mean...

What was my purpose here now? Would I suddenly just vanish? Was I here to make sure Boromir was kept alive; was he still alive? Was his actual purpose to die alongside his people on their assault of Mordor? I had no idea; I still didn't know why I was here, or what my purpose was, or why and how I had gotten here to begin with. I began to feel an existential crisis rear its ugly head, but I squashed it down. I didn't have time for this shit.

I knew it would be a few hours, maybe even a few days, until the armies, or what was left of them, returned. The city would need to be cleaned up, and prepared. No matter how little the amount of people who returned was, it was still a time of celebration. I dressed quickly, tied up my hair, and hurried out of my room to find Faramir and Éowyn, and see what I could do to help.

* * *

Faramir had given me the task of rounding people up, in order to better organize what needed doing in preparation for the return of the armies. He'd given me a list of people to find, and where they needed to go, so I had spent hours running around Minas Tirith like a chicken with my head cut off, searching for people to give orders too. Everyone was pretty understanding of some random woman with pieces of parchment clasped in her hands fervently giving them orders. I think everyone was just too happy about the defeat of Sauron to really care, to be perfectly honest.

It was when I was racing back up the steps to the courtyard for what felt like the millionth time that day, that I heard the yell, or rather, the call. It started as a dull roar – distant voices shouting and people pointing. I stopped in my movements, and turned to face the horizon, as many others were. I squinted, my eyesight still terrible without my glasses. In the distance, far in the distance, I could see two shapes, huge, and possibly winged, coming towards the city. At first, my heart constricted, and I feared that it was more Nazgûl, but the people who were watching and pointing did not appear afraid. In fact, as the shapes moved closer, I saw not leathery wings, but feathers, sleek, and shimmery.

 _Eagles._

Oh my god. I think my heart really did stop this time, and it wasn't because of the fact that two humongous eagles were soaring towards the city. It was what they were carrying in their talons.

It was Frodo and Sam.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Woo! Another! Excitement. This was harder to write, and I am so sorry for the late update. I've been so busy with real life. Last weekend was Canada Day, so I spent my day outside in the hot sun, burning like a lobster because I'm so pale, and enjoying myself. So no writing for me. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this, peace out for now!**


	28. Homeward Bound

**A/N:** **I hath returned, valued readers! Sorry for the delay in the update. I would make an excuse of life being hectic, but let's be real, it's just because of who I am as a person. A lazy person. Who still loves this story – which is now my most popular one, with the most views! Exciting!**

 **Something else has occurred to me: this may very well be the last chapter, before the epilogue. I haven't decided yet, but we shall see, won't we? I've the ending planned, but it may take me a while to get there. I hope you all can bear with me until then – I have a really neat idea in the works, but I will need some time. For now, read on!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.**

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight**

 **Homeward Bound**

* * *

It had been three days. Frodo and Sam were taken to the Healing Houses, near to where I had been before. No one was allowed to see them, as it appeared they were in a coma, still, covered in scrapes and bruises. I had seen the eagles land, and saw how charred their clothes were, and how thin they looked, for Hobbits anyway. It had pained me to see them in such a state, but I also knew that they would be okay now, seeing as it was all over **.**

The One Ring was gone.

It was over. Sauron was destroyed, and the world would again see peace for a time. No doubt, in the future, a new evil would arise, and attempt to take these lands. But, would that evil be anywhere as powerful as Sauron? It was difficult to say at this point, and I didn't want to think about it. Right now, all that mattered was that Frodo and Sam were sae and, for the time being, all was right with the world. Well, almost.

I still tried to not think about how the armies of Gondor and Rohan, led by Aragorn, now having accepted his place as King of Men, had not yet returned. The knot in my stomach tightened with each passing hour as my eyes scoured the horizon, desperate for any sign of any of them. I could tell Faramir and Éowyn were worried, too, though they did not say it. They were trying to have faith, and I had to, as well. It wouldn't do me any good to dwell, and forget to live. No matter what, I still had my duties here.

I had offered to help out in the Healing House once the armies returned. There would be many casualties, and I knew they'd need all the help they could get. I knew what little Aedre had taught me, but I also knew it could prove useful in helping. Once again, I would have to keep my own worries to myself, and focus on helping others. I didn't mind, really. It did me good to help, and it also helped those suffering, too. I was glad to.

Finally, I was done for the day. I decided to head back to my room to relax, and continue waiting this all out. I pondered if I should go back to the library, and maybe kill some time reading, or just chat with the librarian. He was a kind man, and I had actually been back a few times since my last visit – one I still tried not to think about. I was standing on the steps to the White Keep, when a voice called out to me. I turned, and was greeted with the kind eyed, fair-haired visage of...

"Faramir!" I didn't hide the joy in my voice seeing him. We hadn't spoken much since he had given me chores to do since the return of Frodo and Sam. Now, we finally had a moment to breathe. I descended the steps, and he drew me into a tight hug.

"Kayla." The squeeze nearly knocked all the air from my lungs, "How are you?" He pulled back, surveying me with the same brotherly affection he always had; his eyes crinkled in the corners.

I forced a smile, though more so out of exhaustion, rather than strain this time. "Not bad – I've been helping out in the Healing Houses with getting things ready for when the armies return." My heart ached, but I ignored it. Now wasn't the time to worry about such things. I had to be brave, and stay strong for those too weak to do so for themselves.

My face must have shown my inner turmoil, for Faramir's brows creased together. "You seem troubled – is everything alright?" A hand returned to my shoulder, squeezing once, and this time I had to force myself to smile weakly.

"Just more of the same, I'm afraid." I looked out over the courtyard, and towards the horizon again, seeing the still fading red skies of Mordor, and knowing that evil still lingered there, waiting for unsuspecting soldiers. I looked back at Faramir, my jaw set, struggling to find the right words. "It's been three days since the tower fell – since Sauron died." I took a breath, knowing that I was probably beginning to sound like a one-note lute. "I'm nervous as to why they aren't back yet, but I'm trying to not think about it. That's why I've been keeping myself so busy, I guess." I gestured lamely in the direction of the Healing Houses, in a feeble attempt to draw attention away from myself.

Faramir wasn't buying it whatsoever, and I couldn't blame him. I had never been very good at lying, or feigning ignorance. "Kayla, they will return, you needn't worry so much, it will do you no good." His tone held gentle reassurance, mixed with mild scolding, something I honestly expected from him now.

I exhaled slowly, my gut deflating as I did, and my shoulder dropping. "I know," I sighed, looking back up at him, "I've learned that now. But still, I care; that's why I worry."

The gentle smile returned. "I know." Faramir drew me into a tight hug again, but this time, he didn't let go right away. We stood in the courtyard, wrapped in each other's arms in a familial embrace, knowing that, if all were to end in fire, we were the closest each had to family left here.

When Faramir finally let go, he had a strange smile on his face, and I felt a tug of intrigue. He was hiding something from me. I cocked a brow, a small smirk forming on my lips, silently questioning his look.

He pulled back, that same strange smile on his face. "Éowyn and I have decided to marry."

My jaw hit the stone floor, and my eyes bugged out of my head. "What!" When his smile widened, I felt joy bubble inside me, as well as confusion. "Really? So soon?"

Faramir chuckled, looking away over the courtyard, probably thinking about Éowyn. "If war has taught us anything, it is that all you love can be taken from you in the blink of an eye." He looked back at me, and the same odd smile was there. I scrunched my nose, giving him a look, and he smirked.

"I suppose that's true," I muttered ruefully, looking down at my shoes.

"We do not wish to wait to give our hearts what they desire, not when another threat could arise at any moment." Faramir explained softly, his voice filled with such pure joy, and my heart swelled with happiness for him. "It is something we all must learn to accept." That twinkle was that. "Even you."

I tried not to show the surprise on my face, even as I responded calmly. "Hmm."

Faramir looked as though he wanted to say more, when suddenly we were both interrupted by a solider racing up to us. He was out of breath, and clad in the armour of Gondor.

"My Lord! He gasped, practically bent double, his shoulder heaving with gasps. He looked up at us, his face filled with hope, yet fear. "The armies have returned."

I felt a huge chill run through me, and goose bumps erupted on my skin. The world became momentarily loud, and then still as death, followed by the sound of rushing water. I didn't even hear myself sob, but I felt the tears springing to my eyes, hot like acid, and streaking my cheeks like the strokes of a knife. I was out of my own body, turning to look at Faramir, wordlessly opening and closing my mouth.

He understood without me having t say anything. He took my hand, squeezing once. "Go, Kayla."

That was all I needed to hear.

I was off, running faster than I had ever run in my life. Considering I was still healing from my wound, I was amazed at how quickly I could make tracks. I was sprinting, take two steps at a time, leaping from the third last stair, landing on the cobblestone, and barrelling down towards the city gates. I was flying, my hair whipping behind me, and my tunic filling with the cool air of the setting sun. Joy and terror filled me like a flood, but all I could focus on was getting to those gates, breathing as deeply as I could, and waiting.

Finally, I made it.

Throngs of people had gathered, squished together like sardines in a tin can, milling about, and whispering to each other. I could hear whimpering, laughter, crying, and words of anger. I heard people taking bets, crude one at that, and mothers comforting their children, trying to prepare them for the worst of the worst. Another chill passed through me, and I was horribly reminded of when the armies had come back from Helm's Deep, and then again from Isengard. Just as I began to feel as though the gates would never open, they did, and the armies of Gondor and Rohan, the armies of the free people of Middle Earth, came flooding in.

Cheers rose up as they did, and civilians ran to meet loved ones, or broke down at the sight of the wounded of dead. The soldiers had done their best to bring back as many of the wounded or dead as they could, and I felt my stomach churn at the sight of a man with no leg, and another with a face that was barely a face anymore at all. He looked as though he had taken a sledgehammer to the nose. I fought back vomit, knowing I'd have my work cut out for me, once they had all settled. I kept craning my eyes, struggling to find any sign of any of my friends, and any sign of Boromir. A lump began to form in my throat as I searched, my fears slowly beginning to take shape once again. As I was about to give up hope, after about twenty minutes had passed with no sign of any of them, the rear of the army finally entered into Minas Tirith.

Aragorn brought up the rear of his army, as a King should, ensuring his people had safe passage away from Mordor, with no chance of any attacks from behind. He looked so regal atop his horse, his sword at his side, and his cloak seemingly untouched by the fires of Mordor. Beside him road Legolas and Gimli, atop the same horse, looking a little worse for wear, but otherwise very much alive. Merry and Pippin clung to the main of Shadowfax, Gandalf's horse, who rode behind them, gleaming brilliant and white in the dying light of the day. All three looked totally fine, if Gandalf could have more white hair, I'm sure he did. It had been such a harrowing experience, no doubt. But, it wasn't his hair that I was staring at, it was who rode behind Gandalf, beside Éomer, his shield resting on his lap, split in half, and his arm in a makeshift sling.

I didn't even stop to think about how ridiculous I probably looked, tearing down the steps, shoving past bystanders, who grumbled angrily as I did, practically vaulting over a group of children, narrowly missing being run over by a startled soldier's horse, until...

Boromir had gotten off his horse the moment he was me running, and was standing beside it, a tired smile on his face, his good arm open wide, waiting to receive the hug that knocked the wind from his lungs. He grunted in both pleasure and pain as I slammed into him, my hands fisting his hair, tears pouring down my face, my face buried in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I missed you so much." I gasped, my voice watery and wavering, my shoulders heaving with sobs. "Thank God you're home." I broke down again, whimpering into is tunic.

He chuckled softly, his grip on me tightening. "Kayla..." His hug was bone breaking, and made it difficult to breathe, but I didn't care. Behind us, I could hear people whispering excitedly. I pulled back, looking up at him, and he down at me. Without thinking, and without a care for the hundreds of people watching, I drew him down to me, and our lips met for the first time in forever, and yet what I knew meant a lifetime.

* * *

I stood in the same garden I had weeks before with Boromir. The sun was high in the sky, nearing sundown. Three more days had passed since the return of the armies, and I had been working my ass off helping with the wounded. Boromir and I hadn't had much time to talk, or even spend any time together. He had been whisked away as quickly as he had arrived by Faramir, who had promised me that, as soon as thing with Aragorn were figured out, and the wounded tended to amongst our friends, that Boromir and I would have our time together. I had stepped aside, of course. I knew how busy things still were here. I was just glad to have Boromir and the others home safely, and alive.

Now, as I stood in the garden, I was awaiting the arrival of Boromir, for our first time alone together since he had come home. I breathed in deeply, listening to the sounds of the birds in the sky above me, and feeling the gentle breeze on my face from a wind that held no evil, no uncertainty, and no death. Everything was calming, and the world was becoming still once again – no war drums thundered, and no screams pierced the darkening sky.

"Kayla?"

I turned, and a soft smile formed on my lips. "Boromir." His name, so familiar and safe in my voice, drifted into the dimness of the light. I moved forward, as did he, and drew him into an embrace. He kissed me softly, his lips a bit drier than usual, probably due to all the travelling and stress. Nonetheless, the kiss was nice, and he gently cup the back of my head in one hand, the other pulling me in close by the waist. We pulled apart, and I smiled up at him, happy tears swimming in my eyes.

"How are you?" He rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed.

I leant away, staring up at him in surprise. "How am I? I should ask you the same question!" I shook my head, smiling, and he looked mildly embarrassed. "Are you alright? Were you hurt?" My eyes scanned his features, searching for anything out of place; any nicks, bruises, or broken things.

He pulled me back against him. He was being so lovey-dovey today. "No, I wasn't. Not mortally, at least." He drew back to look at me. "A few scratches would not keep me from returning home to you." He pulled me to him again, kissing me deeply. I sighed happily, easing into the kiss, feeling so safe – so happy. We stayed like that for a moment, when a thought occurred to me.

I pulled away, returning to look out over the Fields of Pelennor, seeing how already the ravaged landscape was beginning to heal – green grass had begun to spring up through the yellow and brown. "I suppose everything will change now, won't it?"

I felt him come to stand beside me, and I looked sideways up at him. "It must, Kayla." He wasn't looking at me, but instead over the landscape. "The world is, for now, at peace. We must relish in that." He smiled down at me, and I felt my heart warm. "It is a time for celebration, not toil."

I looked down, and back and away over Gondor. The wind blew my slowly growing hair over my eyes, and I brushed it away. "I know; it's just weird to think that everything is...over, you know?" I chewed on my thumbnail, something I felt like I hadn't done in ages – something I hadn't done since writing my essay, I think. "Pretty soon, Aragorn will be crowned King of Gondor and Men, and the hobbits will no doubt return to the shire, Legolas to Mirkwood, and Gimli to... wherever he can go now, I suppose." A small chuckle escaped me, and I felt Boromir laugh softly, as well.

"I've a feeling Legolas and Gimli will remain in one another's company for the time being." He smirked, and I grinned.

"True."

We were silent for a moment, just listening to the sounds of the world. Boromir had his arm around my shoulders, and we stood, enjoying one another's company. I couldn't think of any way this moment could become more perfect. And them Boromir spoke.

"There is... Something else that may well change, too, Kayla."

He sounded odd, and I turned to look at him, concern etched on my face. "Oh? What's that?"

"Well, it is something that changed within myself, while I was on the battlefield."

He seemed nervous, or agitated, I couldn't tell which. Worry began to bubble up inside me. I reached for his hand, taking it in mine. "Boromir? Are you okay?" I gently touched his face, my hands cold, I knew, and he shuddered at the touch, but didn't move away. He took the hand on his face, bringing it down to hold in his own.

"When I was out there, knowing I was mere feet from death, fighting for my king and country, I realized something." He was beginning to scare me – he was being so ominous. What was going on?

I did my best to keep my voice calm. "And what's that?" I think he could see the fear in my face, for he squeezed my hand gently, and I felt my composure relax.

"I never wanted to be parted from you ever again." Just as he had said he'd felt during the battle before... "You were one of the only things on my mind out there, just as before."

I smiled, feeling the love I had for him swell within me like a balloon. "That's so sweet. And it made you fight harder?"

That same expression was back again, and my nervousness began to mount once again. "Not only that, but I knew I also never wanted to be with another woman for the remainder of my days." Oh, my god. What was he about to say.

The world, already silent as it was before, became even more so. Boromir slowly took ,y hands in his, and I began to feel my heart beat a little faster, and a little faster, and so fast that it was began to sound like a drum in my ears.

He looked into my eyes, his face so changed from when I had first met him. He was been so bitter then, so hard. Now, he was kind, strong, and he loved me. "Kayla, I love you," he began, "When all is said and done with Aragorn's coronation, and the dust has settled..." Oh, God, oh, God.

"Will you marry me?"

Suddenly, I was remembering everything I had done with Boromir for my entire time here. I remembered the first time I had seen him, fighting the orcs in the clearing, when he had been shot; when he had been supposed to die. I remembered riding with him to Edoras to get him help, and then having to help him. I remembered how much we had disliked each other in the beginning. I remembered laughing with him as we had slept in separate beds, trying to find some semblance of normalcy amidst all the chaos. I remembered Helm's Deep, and our first signs of feelings for one another. I remembered dancing in Edoras at the feast remembering the dear. I remembered when we had gone to Aldburg, to visit Bera's family, and it had been then that I was realized I was falling in love with him. I remembered finally going to Minas Tirith, and realizing that I couldn't go home. I remembered when I had thought he could be dead in the battle on the Fields of Pelennor, and when he had finally come back. I remembered our first kiss, and our first time, and when we had finally admitted to loving one another. I remembered by agony knowing he may not return from Mordor. And now...

I finally found my voice again. "Boromir... I..." There were so many things I wanted to say. I loved him so much, and it amazed just how quickly and deeply it had happened. In my world, one had to date for at least six months to a year before getting married or engaged, lest it was deemed weird or unnatural. Not to mention young marriages were often frowned upon. But, this wasn't my world.

Well, actually it was.

This was my home now. My "world", the one I had been so hung up on for so long, was no longer my world, was no longer my home. Middle Earth was my home now, and had been for months. I hadn't seen my family in months. Hell, I didn't even know if they knew I was gone. I had no answers, and honestly, I was okay with that. I would probably never know how or why I had ended up here, and I had come to terms with that now. I began to speak again, but Boromir held up a hand, and I silenced myself

"You do not have to answer right away – you may take your time." His tone was so kind, so loving. "I know there is much to do and process at this given moment, but – " I found my voice again before he could continue, and I spoke quickly, before I lost my courage.

"Yes."

He stared at me, his eyes wide, also disbelieving. "What?"

Happiness filled me like rushing water, and tears sprang to my eyes. I squeezed his hands tighter, my voice choked with emotion. "I would be honoured to become your wife, Boromir." He began to pull me into him, and as he did, I spoke into this tunic, my voice muffled by his body. "This is my home now. I love you, and I want to marry you."

Boromir drew my face to his, kissing me in the fading light of the day. He held me, and we said nothing more. I couldn't believe I was going to marry him – I couldn't process it. I didn't think I had ever been so happy in my life. All I could focus on was the joy in my soul, and warmth of his arms around me.

I had always thought my journey to Minas Tirith was a journey to find out how to get back to my world – to my home. Little did I know, that the entire time I was coming here, I was already homeward bound. Here. This place.

Finally, I was home.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Welp, that's the last chapter before the epilogue! I will be taking a longer hiatus than before in order to get all my stuff sorted for how this thing is going to end. So, take care for now, everyone, and I will be back as soon as I can! Much love.**


	29. Epilogue: Hill by Hill, Mile by Mile

**A/N:** **Well, here we are. The epilogue. This story would have been two and a half years old in November, and I think part of me wanted it to reach that. This story has been my baby for over two years. So much has happened in my own, personal life in that time, and so much nearly made me never want to be creative again. So many times I almost gave up, and so many times I kept coming back. But, here I am, still writing, still alive, and still feeling that drive to create. You guys have been wonderful, sending me messages, reviewing, helping me. I appreciate you all so much. This story is for you, above all else. Thank you, _mellons_. Onward we go.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing except Kayla Harris. All rights for Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. I also do not own any other references made throughout this story.**

* * *

 _Journey to a Curious Place_

 **Epilogue**

 **Hill by Hill, Mile by Mile**

* * *

It was the day of the coronation.

Two weeks had passed since Boromir's proposal, and everyone was very happy for us. I had told Éowyn first, who had been absolutely thrilled, and Boromir had told Faramir, who had practically been beside himself with joy. They had thrown us a mini celebration in the throne room, along with Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf, and the Hobbits. It had been the first time I had seen Frodo and Sam in person.

I wasn't sure why, but I had thought they would be taller. Why I had thought this of hobbits, I had no idea. It was probably because of all the tales I had heard about them, of bravery and sacrifice. The way people talked about them, the way they looked at them, you would have thought they were gods among men, and honestly, they kind of were. They had saved their own, my home now too, and everyone could now look ahead to what would hopefully be another two and half thousand years of peace.

I hadn't spoken to them much, even at all, actually. Boromir had introduced me to Frodo first, apologizing again for all he had done before, only to be met with a quick, albeit tight, hug from the young hobbit, waving away his apologies. After all he had endured, the madness of one man was surely a non-issue. Boromir then had introduced me as the woman who had not only saved his life, but also given him a life he had never dreamt of having. He told Frodo he intended to marry me, and the young Halfling look genuinely happy for us. He had then excused himself, and moved onto the others. He had seemed distant, and I couldn't blame him. I knew after the coronation, it wouldn't be long until they hobbits would head back to the Shire, and following that, Frodo would leave for the Grey Havens.

It was almost bittersweet, watching them all together now. I didn't know if Frodo ever told Aragorn or the others (excluding the hobbits and Gandalf) that he planned to leave this world, and move onto the next. I didn't even know if it was possible for someone to come back from the Grey Havens, either. I had made a mental note to ask Boromir about that later, and/or visit the library again, and read up on it.

And now, here we were, the day of the coronation.

The story, the one I knew anyway, was coming to a close. Everything that happened after today was foreign to me. I didn't know what the future held for me, and it was both terrifying, and yet so exciting. I tried not to think of the possibility of me just dropping dead, or fading away as soon as the coronation was over. Something along the lines of "Oh, it was all a dream, or you're actually dead, blah, blah, blah." I didn't want to even entertain that idea. I didn't know how I had gotten here, I frankly didn't want to know, and I was at peace with it. This was my home now, I had been weaned of the technological dependence of my world, and I was so much happier for it. I loved freely, lived freely, and was free.

I was busy getting ready in my room, when there was a soft knock on my door. I was standing in front of my mirror, as dusty and streaked as it was, from the lingering ashes of battle, and the still disintegrating Mordor. I wore a pale lavender dress, more so lilac, really, and my dark hair was done in a bun, with a few of the white flowers from the tree of Gondor place in it. I wore simple brown shoes, and borrowed some perfume from Éowyn, so I smelled of lavender, too. I felt pretty. When I heard the knock, I turned.

"Yes?" I called out, "It's open."

The door opened, and Boromir poked his head in. Upon seeing me, his face stretched into a huge grin, and he came around the door. He was clad in a deep, burgundy and black tunic, with silver trim, and wore the sigil of the Steward of Gondor. Since Denethor had died, Boromir was Steward to Aragorn now, and title he relished in greatly. I think he finally felt he could help his people the way he wanted to, and that meant the world to him. He and Aragorn were so much better off than they had been all those months before, and Boromir now looked on his friend with pride and respect, rather than distain and contempt.

"Kayla," his eyes travelled over my body, "You looks beautiful."

I felt a flush come to my cheeks, averting my gaze for a moment. Yes, it brought me great joy to be with him, and being engaged to him, but I was still uncomfortable when someone mentioned my looks, even if it was the man I loved.

"Thanks," I stammered pathetically. I gestured to his attire, "You don't look half bad yourself."

Boromir chuckled, and I smiled slightly. "You have always had such a way with words, Kayla, it never ceases to amaze me. I wonder, why do you speak as you do? I do not believe I have ever asked you. You speak so... casually. It is so uncommon here."

I froze, staring at him. How was I supposed to answer that? "Oh, by the way, I'm not from here, not even from this world, in fact. I'm from a world where your world is a book, and you were supposed to die. But, I accidentally saved you, and now here we are, engaged and happy. Whoops?"

Yeah, no.

I had played this scenario over in my head a few times, wondering how I'd handle it if Boromir ever asked me why I was the way I was. I think I had come to the mental decision ages before that, should what was happening right now happen, I wouldn't tell him. Now, that may sound totally crazy, going into a marriage to someone who really doesn't know anything about who you really are, but that wasn't why I wasn't going to tell him the truth.

I wasn't going to tell him the truth, because it wasn't my truth anymore. A few months ago, my truth had been that I was Kayla Harris from Earth, from Canada, going to university, in my early twenties, and The Lord of the Rings was just a story. But now, I was Lady Kayla of Middle Earth, a young woman driven from her home for unknown reasons to her, suffering from possible amnesia (according to literally everyone else), future wife of Lord Boromir of Gondor, able to defend herself with a weapon, able to kill enemies, travel great distances, and live.

I wasn't telling Boromir who Kayla Harris had been, because Kayla Harris was dead.

Not physically, so to speak, but mentally. Who I had been had begun to die when I had left my backpack back in Rohan. She had finally been laid to rest when I realized I couldn't' go home. She had become at peace with it, when Boromir had finally told her he loved her. Now, here she was, alive and well, happy with who she was, where she lived, and how her mental state of mind had healed so much over the course of only a few months. Or had it been a year now? I had honestly begun to lose track of time the longer I was here, but I didn't mind.

My mouth twitched into a horribly awkward smile. "I don't know," I said gently, "I suppose it's just always how I've spoken." I looked up at him, "Is that okay?"

Boromir's gaze softened, his large smile replaced with a small, empathetic one. "Of course it is, Kayla." He approached me, taking me in his arms, and kissing my forehead. "I love you exactly as you are, and that will not change, so long as I draw breath."

I looked up at him, the top of my head brushing against his nose. "Thank you, Boromir." I stood up on my toes, kissing him softly.

When we pulled apart, his large grin was back again. "The coronation will begin soon, Kayla, we should go down."

* * *

Thousands were gathered in the courtyard for Aragorn's coronation. They were squished together like sardines in a can, milling about, chattering like pigeons, and the air was thick with joy and laughter. For the first time since I had come to Middle Earth, there was a deep semblance of peace all around. Aragorn was no where to be seen, but I figured he would be arriving at any moment, ready to be crowned king of Gondor.

White flowers hung from the pillars, and many still clung to the Tree of Gondor. Soldiers lined either side of the great door that lead inside to the throne room. At the top of the steps, Gimli stood, a pillow in his hands, and resting upon it was the crown Aragorn would wear, that had been worn by many before him. Boromir moved to take his place on the opposite side of the dwarf, and motioned for me to stand beside him. As Steward of Gondor, Boromir was right hand to Aragorn, and as his future wife, I stood alongside them both.

Gimli said nothing as we approached, but only winked, and I smiled back at him. Legolas and the Hobbits were no where in sight, but I figured they were with their own people, or together. As I squinted out over the crowds (squinting because of lack of glasses, as well as there being so many people) I spotted Faramir and Éowyn, standing together. I gave them a small wave, which they returned with huge smiles.

A hush suddenly fell over the crowd, and I turned back to look. Gandalf had appeared, clad in his brilliant white robes, staff in hand, standing at the top of the steps. He surveyed the people of Gondor, his eyes twinkling, looked beyond, and nodded once.

We all turned, and a murmur began to be heard amongst the people. Aragorn had arrived, and he was wearing armour fit for a king, as well as a hugely long cloak. His hair was cleaned of the blood and dirt from the previous battles, and although he looked a little awkward, as he moved towards the steps and Gandalf, he also looked more regal, and ready to rule, than I had ever seen him.

Aragorn climbed the steps, and as he passed us, smiled once at myself and Boromir, and we inclined our heads in turns. Aragorn then knelt upon the ground before Gandalf, and the wizard looked down at him. Gimli moved forward, allowing Gandalf to pick up the crown from the pillow.

Gandalf raised the majestic crown above his head, and slowly lowered it onto Aragorn's, speaking as he did. "Now come the days of the King." Aragorn looked up at Gandalf, the crown upon his dark hair, and a small smile on his face. I felt a chill run through me as I looked at my friend, now King of Gondor, rise up from the ground to face his people.

Gandalf smiled once more. "May they be blessed." His voice was quiet, so as only we heard him speak.

Boromir nodded, "Long may he reign," he looked to me, and I quickly jumped to.

"Long may he reign." I repeated, and Aragorn smiled at us again, before turning back to the crowd, who was beginning to grow restless, their joy glowing like a sun.

"This day does not belong to one man, but to all." Aragorn's voice rang out over the crowds, over Minas Tirith, over all of Middle Earth. "Let us together rebuild this world, and we may share in days of peace." He extended his hands, palms up, exposing his soul to his people.

A cheer rose up, thundering through the crowds, and the shaking the stone beneath our feet. Nearby, I saw Éowyn and Faramir exchange a heartfelt smile, and it warmed me. Beside me, Boromir reach for my hand, and squeezed it once. I looked up at him, my own smile growing with each passing second. I had never felt joy such as this.

Aragorn then moved through the crowds, greeting his people as their king. He passed Boromir and myself first, and bowed low, and as he moved down the steps and into the throng, Boromir took my hand in his, and did not let go.

"How are you feeling?" I hissed at him, as Aragorn moved away, and the crowd's attention was focused upon him, rather than in our direction. "You're the official Steward to the King of Gondor now. It's such an honour."

Boromir nodded, "It is an honour, I am very grateful to my king."

"You must be so excited," I squeezed his arm.

Boromir looked down at me, and reached out to brush a flyaway hair from my face. "There are more important things to be excited about."

I flushed, leaning into his touch. "Such as?" Boromir gave me a look, and I smirked. He was about to say something else, when Gimli whispered to us.

"Looks like your wedding may have to be put on hold, my lady." I was confused, but noticed he was gesturing. Boromir and I turned, and my mouth fell open.

An elven woman, wearing a gorgeous sea foam green dress with long dark hair, I assumed she was Lady Arwen, was locked in a passionate embrace with the king, and the crowd was going insane, cheering and clapping. I had to stifle a giggle, and behind me, I heard Boromir snort.

"That is certainly one way to honour your king," he quipped, and I lapsed into a silent fit of laughter.

Hand in hand, Aragorn and Arwen moved together through the remainder of the crowd, until they suddenly stopped. From where we stood, I couldn't see who he was talking to, or hear what he was saying, but from the utter silence, I gathered it was important.

Suddenly, the crowds began to kneel, bowing to something, or someone. As they lowered, I caught a glimpse, and realized it was all four hobbits, standing together. Beside me, I heard Boromir exhale, his breath calm, and I looked up at him. He looked so at peace, and my heart felt so full. I gently took his hand again, and we both knelt down, honouring the bravery and sacrifices that they had made. Galadriel was right all along, I mused as we showed the four young hobbits at what magnitude their actions had been for us all:

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."

* * *

 _And thus it was, the fourth age of Middle Earth began. And the Fellowship of the Ring, eternally bound by friendship, and love, was ended._

* * *

 _6 months Later_

Finally, it was summer again.

The winter had been less harsh than normal years, and Boromir had said it was because of the defeat of Sauron, and the destruction of the One Ring. Middle Earth was happy again, and as such, rewarded us with a shorter winter, an early spring, and what would be a long summer.

It had been six months since Aragorn's coronation, and he had proven to be a wonderful King – fair and just. Arwen ruled alongside him as his queen. They had married not long after their reunion at the coronation, and she was already pregnant with their child, and it was said she could deliver a boy in the coming months. They were both deliriously happy, and it showed in their rulings. I, too, was happy for them. Peace seemed to have settled well across all the land.

Legolas had returned to Mirkwood, and Gimli to his people, wherever they were now. They both did their best to visit the capital as often as they could, usually every two to three months, and when they did, we all got together and reminisced about the war, and the Fellowship. These get togethers often went far into the night, and involved a lot of alcohol. It was always a riot. I heard they often visited each other, too, which gladdened me greatly, seeing as dwarf/elf friendships were often so taboo here. Thanks, Thranduil.

The hobbits had gone back to the Shire, as far as I knew. Sam had gotten married, and Merry and Pippin continued on with their shenanigans. Frodo had stayed for a time, with his uncle, Bilbo, who had begun to drastically age since the destruction of the One Ring. After a few months, I had heard that they had gone with Galadriel and Elrond, as well as Gandalf, and together the two hobbits had passed into the West, to the Grey Havens. It had pained both Boromir and I greatly, knowing we would no longer see them again in this life, but I also know that, considering how much they had all endured, they had every right to do so. This life held no merit for them anymore, I supposed, and they had chosen to leave it.

Éowyn and Faramir had married shortly after the coronation, just like Aragorn and Arwen, and had returned to Edoras, where they now resided part-time. Faramir still wanted to help Boromir run things in the city, but also wanted to be with his wife, who was now several months pregnant with their first child. He returned Minas Tirith every three or four months, like Legolas and Gimli, to help Boromir with what he could, stay for a week or two, and then return to Rohan. He had been named Warden of Rohan, and helped the people of his unborn child, and wife, as best he could, and I think he had taken a liking to it.

As for myself, I had just gotten back from Rohan that morning. I had gone to visit with Éowyn and Faramir, see Aedre, who had nearly killed me with a bone-breaking hug, and spend some time helping out. Faramir would be an amazing father, but I also knew that Éowyn could use the help of a woman, and a friend, at this time. When the baby came, I had promised to return to Rohan, hopefully with Boromir in tow, and we would spend a month or so giving them a hand. Éowyn had hinted on moving herself and their child to Minas Tirith permanently, once it grew up a bit more, and the idea thrilled both Boromir and I. It would be nice to have our friends, and currently-unborn-but-soon-to-be-born niece or nephew so close by. On my way back, I had also stopped in Aldburg to see Bera's family, and check in. I sent them letters every few weeks, and they would be attending mine and Boromir's wedding in a month's time.

Despite him having proposed to me six months prior, we had decided to wait to get married, to give us time to settle in, and allow Boromir to focus on his work as Steward, and allow Aragorn to get used to being King. I was fine with it, honestly, as it gave me even more time to learn that much more about the man I was going to marry. I still loved him as much as I had the day we had admitted it, and I felt I would love him until the day I died. He treated me like gold – more precious than any Ring of Power, and I returned it in kind.

Now, I stood in the same garden Boromir and I had spent so much of our time, waiting for him. He had been meeting with the people the entire day, as Aragorn was currently away, and had not had the time to see me when I had gotten back, something I was certain he wasn't too please about. But, the sun was setting, and that meant he would be here any minute, and we could finally spend some alone-time together.

"Kayla."

I turned, and saw a familiar figure, clad in a dark tunic, golden hair slowly greying, and green-grey eyes twinkling in the dying light of day.

"Boromir!" I exclaimed. I excitedly rush forward, flinging my arms around my soon-to-be husband, and embracing him tightly. I lifted my head and kissed him. Even though it had only been a few weeks, it felt like an age since we had last seen each other.

He beamed down at me. "How was Edoras?" His arms didn't loosen whatsoever, and I was glad for it. I leaned into him comfortably, inhaling his familiar scent of smoke and pine.

"Amazing," I sighed happily, looking up at him. "Aedre kept me very busy."

His eyebrows shot up. "Surely you did not help her the entire time?"

I giggled, pulling back slightly. "No, darling, I did not." I placed a hand on his face, stroking his cheek, feeling the stubble growing there like weeds. It was more peppery now than it had been before. "I helped her a few times a day, but I spent the majority of my time with Éowyn and Faramir. I think Faramir settling in nicely as Warden of Rohan." I winked, and Boromir looked pleased.

"I'm certain he is, though I do miss my little brother." A crease formed between his eyebrows, and I gently kissed it away.

"I know you do, and we can go visit again as soon as Aragorn gets home, if you like."

He nodded, looking happier. "How is Éowyn?" He gestured to the balcony, and we moved to stand there, looking out over the Fields of Pelennor. They had regrown so much since the war – the grasses returning, and flowers had even begun to sprout.

"Huge," I was saying, chuckling, "considering she's only about four months along, I'm surprised how quickly the child is growing. Aedre thinks she's having twins."

Boromir grimaced, "I hope for their sake, she doesn't. Faramir and Éowyn have more than enough to handle in Edoras."

I smiled again, nodding. "Éomer has been helpful, too. He said he could take over some of Faramir's responsibilities when the baby comes, but not permanently. He never was one to lead – a land anyway. He leads his armies well." I was glad that I had had more time to speak with Éowyn's brother during my stay in Rohan.

Boromir squeezed my hand, "But, you enjoyed your stay? You seem to have been gone an age." He pulled me into his arms again, and I laughed, gently pushing back.

"It was only a month and a half, my love." I pecked his cheek, "But, yes, I did. I actually went back to Aldburg, too, on my way back, and saw Bera's family."

His gaze softened, probably remembering our time there. I certainly did; that was when I realized I was in love with him. "They must have been so glad to see you."

I remembered Bera suddenly, and my heart hurt for a moment. I blinked my surprisingly wet eyes, and looked up at him. "They were. I updated them on everything, and invited them to Minas Tirith for our wedding, if that's alright."

Boromir fixed me with a "come now, Kayla" look, before saying. "Of course it is." He shook his head, sighing loudly. "I know I need some time away to help you with all that."

I patted his arm in sympathy. "How were your meetings with the people?"

He passed a hand over his eyes, before looking out over the plains, to the dead wreckage of Mordor. He looked exhausted. "They went well, though I am looking forward to the return of the king."

I chuckled, resisting the urge to lose it that he had said such a thing. "When is Aragorn back from Rivendell, anyway? He was gone before I left."

He shrugged absently, still looking away from me. "It is a long journey. Two weeks, I believe, and not a moment too soon." He looked back, still looking tired, but also content. "If we are to marry in a month, I would like some time alone with you to plan accordingly."

I grinned up at him. "No kidding." I looked out over the fields myself. "Well, he'll be back soon, and when he is, we will plan. Though, I'm not opposed to something small – I am marrying _you_ , after all," I looked back, reaching out to take his hand in mine, "and that's the most important thing. Isn't it?"

Boromir's eyebrows creased together, and he looked worried that I had been offended. "Of course it is, my love. Forgive me, I did not think."

I shook my head, kissing his cheek again. "There is nothing to forgive."

We spent a few more moments in the garden, before returning to our quarters. The bed, large, a king size I think, was made up neatly, with deep green and silver sheets, and a pitcher filled with wine, and another with water, rested upon the same table I had had in my room, before everything had changed. Boromir and I shared room now, as we were together, and no one objected to it. In fact, many encouraged it, and were just as excited as we were to get married so soon.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, taking off my shoes, and preparing to change into something a little looser. I always had to dress so snugly for travel, what with leather, belts, boots, and the like. I hated form-fitting clothing, I always had. I so preferred loose, comfortable clothing. Probably why I had opted for leggings instead of jeans all those ages ago, it seemed.

"What will you do while I continue my duties as Steward for the remainder of the King's time away?" Boromir asked as I changed. He was seated at the table, sipping on a glass of wine. "It will not be too long, but I do not wish you achingly bored."

I leaned back on my hands, my head tilted to the side, thinking. This was something I had been pondering on my way back to Minas Tirith, actually. "Being in Edoras has made me realize something," I began slowly, looking passed him, speaking more so aloud from my own head, than to him directly, "these last few months here, before I left, I have felt so stagnant." I shook my head, focusing in on him, shrugging slightly. "Being back in Rohan, and helping Aedre, made me remember that when I first met you, I did not come from a life of luxury, feather pillows, and fine wine. I came from a life of work, hard work, and I miss that, really."

It was true. Since being in Minas Tirith, I had had little to do, other than walk around, talk to the guards, help Boromir when I could, and just in general "hang out". I had read everything there was in my room, since I had refused to return to the library, since my little freak out a few months prior. I was sure the poor librarian was terrified of me, now, and who could blame him, if he was. In Rohan, I had spent so much time doing things, and it had felt so good to have, what I felt was, purpose again. I had missed being busy, and working with my hands.

Boromir looked suddenly strange, as though he were sad, or hurt. "What are you saying, are you unhappy?" His tone sounded nervous – it was so unlike him.

I paled, feeling chilled. "No!" I said sharply, flailing my hands in front of me like an idiot, and leaping off the bed. I strode across the room, taking his hands in mine. "The opposite – I am quite happy; ecstatic, in fact. I love my life here, with you, in Gondor, with everyone." I squeezed his hands, imploring him to understand that I wasn't angry, or ungrateful, or anything.

His brows remained creased, and I felt worse. "Then what is it?"

I dropped his hands, sighing, and turning away. "I don't know." I squared my shoulders, and turned back. "I think I should like to find some work to do. Not wedding planning. Something real – volunteer maybe." I shrugged absently, "Something to keep me busy, not just while you're helping until Aragorn returns, but something consistent." A silence hung between us, and I could almost see Boromir physically deflate, as he let out the breath I guess he had been holding; he looked so relieved.

"Alright," he smiled kindly, moving towards me, and taking my hands back in his, "what did you have in mind? A healer, perhaps?"

I shook my head, laughing slightly. "No, I don't think so. While it is something I know I'm not terrible at, it isn't something I want to do for the remainder of my days." I smiled with fondness. "Aedre and the others are stronger than I am, in that regard." I thought for a moment, "To tell you the truth, I spent quite a large amount of time in Edoras' library, as well as in Aldburg." My smile turned wistful. "I'd forgotten how much I love reading, and books. I haven't been back to the library here since..." I trailed off, looking down at my bare feet.

Boromir lifted my chin to look at him. He spoke gently, "Kayla, if you do not wish to – "

I pulled back with care, "I think I should; it's time." I forced a smile, "Perhaps the Librarian could use my help sorting, or something? It would be nice to be able to read more, too, and learn even more about my home. About you." I smiled more fully, and Boromir's eyes crinkled in the corners as I spoke.

"If that is what you wish, and you feel you are ready, then allow me to help you." He stepped back, his hands on my shoulders. "You are in luck, as well. The Librarian has just returned from his journey." He stepped away, moving to finish his wine, and change clothing himself, putting on something more casual, now that his duties for the day were done. "He will be pleased to meet you. It has been sometime since he was last here. Over two years, I believe."

I blinked, surprised. "Wait, I'm confused. I met the Librarian months ago, when I first went there to do research."

Boromir looked back at me, as he yanked a linen shirt over this head. "No, my dear, you did not meet him." His voice sounded muffled by the fabric, and I strained to hear him properly. "Who you met was his assistant. The Librarian who manages the library daily was on leave for a time, though I do not recall why." I continued to stare, feeling more and more confused by the second. Boromir finally fully had his shirt one, and he turned to face me as he continued to speak. "However, he has returned, last week to be exact, and I am certain he would appreciate the help, and his assistant would be glad of the time to relax himself. If you would like, we can go visit him tomorrow morning, before I meet with the people at midday." He finished, and smile, waiting expectantly for my reply.

I managed to stop staring, and found my voice again. "Oh... Well, alright then." I cleared my throat. "That sounds like a plan to me." I smiled, albeit still heavily filled with confusion.

Boromir looked pleased, and beamed at me, probably glad he could help. He moved forward, and kissed my forehead. "Wonderful; now, let us get something to eat, shall we? You can tell me all about your trip to Rohan."

* * *

The following morning dawned bright and early. I awoke with my face plastered to Boromir's chest, and drool unceremoniously dripping from my mouth. I sat up quickly, wiping my face, and tidying my hair, squinting against the bright light of the morning sun. Behind me, Boromir stirred, and he let out a happy sigh.

"Good morning, love." He sat up, placing a hand on the small of my back, rubbing it gently, as he did every morning. "Are you ready to go meet the Librarian?"

I rubbed some sleep from my eye, nodding, a yawn escaping me. "As ready as I'll ever be." I stood, walking to the wash basin, and splashing some water on my face. "Tell me: why did he leave for so long?" My voice sounded funny, muffled by the wet towel. I dried my face, and turned back, clearing my throat. "What could have possibly kept him away all this time?"

Boromir was leaning up on his knees, watching me with intrigue. "I do not know; it could have been the war, familial matters, or any number of things." He swung his legs over the bed, standing, and coming to join me at the basin.

I stepped back, reaching for the clothing I had laid out the night before. I yanked a dress over my head, not bothering with a bra (or whatever they were called here). Today, I wanted to be comfortable, especially for what could lay ahead. "Where did he go?"

Having finished at the basin, Boromir turned back. "That I also do not know." He scratched his chin, looking thoughtful, "Some whispered that he had left this world, and passed to the Grey Havens, but I think not. It is a place for elves."

My heart ached, "And Frodo, and Gandalf." My reminder caused his face to fall, and I felt instant regret.

Boromir sighed, "Yes, and Frodo and Gandalf."

I put down one of the socks I had been about to stick my foot into, and walked over to him. "I'm sorry, I know you miss them. I do too."

Boromir touched my face gently. "I do, but I am thankful for who remains here, and for you." He kissed my forehead, before moving on to poor us each a glass of water. "I knew our time as the Fellowship had to end eventually. Even these last six months, it has been hard to grasp."

I accepted the goblet of crystal clear water, taking a small sip. "I know, love."

We finished out water, and had a small amount to eat for breakfast, in the way of grapes, cheese, and bread, before heading out. I hadn't wanted to eat much, but Boromir had insisted. We both knew if I fell into the throws of panic upon returning to the library, I had better eat something first. Neither of us wanted me passing out on the stone due to exhaustion, or anxiety.

We left our quarters, and exited the Keep, into the bustle of the city. Citizens greeted us as we passed by, and we nodded politely. Everyone was so content now, and with good reason. With the war over, many could go back to, or even start to, lead a somewhat normal life now.

It took about ten minutes, but we finally came to the library. It towered above us, and something that should have been so calming, historical, and inviting to any normal person, felt intimidating and painful for me. As I looked up at it, I remembered how I had felt first going in, all those months before. I had been filled with such hope and determination, and now I was staring at it, resenting it. Boromir seemed to sense how I felt, for me took my hand, silently asking me if I was ready. I took a breath; I had to get over this eventually. I looked up at him, and nodded.

He inclined his head, "I will be but a moment, please remain here."

He squeezed my hand once, and entered into the library, leaving me alone in its shadow, listening to the sound of the city behind me. I twiddled my thumbs, ad leaned up against the building, taking a breath. I wanted something to do, and I was sick of being this little wimp for so long. It was time for me to take charge.

After a few moments, the door to the library swung open again, and Boromir emerged. He was followed by an elderly man, quite tall, who looked to be in his early eighties. He had kind eyes, which crinkled in the corner when he smiled at me upon seeing me, and hair as white as Gandalf's.

Boromir came to me, and gestured politely to the man. "Kayla, this the Librarian."

The older man laughed, "Please, Lord Boromir, there is no need to be so formal." He had a heavy British accent, like most people here did, and sounded wise beyond his years. A perfect image of a librarian for such a place. My name is Reuel, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady." He took my hand, kissing it once. I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, and I smiled politely.

"Likewise, Sir Reuel." I curtsied as best I could, feeling ridiculous.

Reuel smiled, his kind features for some reason giving me a semblance of safety. "So polite – Boromir tells me you wish to help here at the library?" He folded his hands in front of him expectantly, and politely awaiting my response.

I fumbled with my words, suddenly nervous for some reason. "I do, yes. I love reading, and I'd like something to help me stay busy in my day to day life."

He looked pleased, his grin back. "Wonderful; well, I would love to discuss further, Lady Kayla." He gestured to the door, and Boromir took that as his queue.

"I will take my leave, then, and prepare to meet with the people." He bowed once to Reuel, before turning to me, and kissing me softly on my cheek. I smiled up at him, and reach out to squeeze his hand.

"I'll see you later." I mumbled, and he smiled, before departing, leaving me alone with the Librarian. I turned back to Reuel. "Shall we go inside? Thank you for letting me help you out."

Surprisingly, he held up a hand, "A moment, my Lady. I would firstly like to say that I have waited a very long time to meet you, Kayla." For some reason, his words sent a chill through me, and I stared at him.

"You've...waited to meet _me_?" I couldn't have sounded more incredulous if I tired.

He nodded calmly. "Since news of your engagement to Lord Boromir reached me some months ago, I elected to return to Minas Tirith."

I blinked, confusion filling me. "Forgive me, but I have been here in Minas Tirith for some time. Why did you wait until now?" For some reason, my conscience was telling me I didn't want to know the answer.

Reuel fixed me with a kind smile, and part of my chill receded, but the wariness remained. "Sadly, other matters kept me away for a time." He straightened, "But, that time has passed, and the important thing is I am here now, and so are you."

Something clicked suddenly in my brain, and I blurted out, "Do...do I know you?" Fear was filling me, but it wasn't that I felt I was in danger. No, it felt like something else... Something familiar, yet foreign to me for so long...

He was nodding again, "You do – not well, but you do. We have met before, in another age, in a way. Before you came to Middle Earth."

The world went quiet, and I heard my blood rushing in my ears. A chill so powerful rushed through my body, freezing me to my core. How... how did he...? He couldn't be... No...

I wanted to scream, and cry, and yell, and run. But, I couldn't; because in the presence of this man, I felt no real fear, only confusion, and a thousand questions. "I don't... I don't understand," I whispered, my voice breaking, and I saw Reuel's expression soften to one of sympathy. A thought struck me then, and I paled to the colour of his hair, no doubt. "Wait, are you the reason I'm here?" My voice came out louder, and more shrill than I had intended. A few passer-by's stared, and I quieted myself. Instead, I hissed under my breath to him, "Are you a wizard, like Gandalf?"

His expression of sympathy vanished to be replaced by mild amusement. "No, I am not a wizard."

Frustration and panic began to bubble inside me. "Are you the reason I can't go home?"

His kind smile was back, and my emotions continued to do somersaults. "Kayla, you are home."

I was taken aback; how had he known I felt that way about Middle Earth now? "Well, I know that now, but – " I mumbled, feeling foolish. I stared at my shoes, but looked up again when Reuel gently placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Listen to mem Kayla." His voice was so gentle, and I felt the sudden urge to cry, and yet also take off like a bat out of hell. "None can come here who do not wish. Their soul must find it; find the place where they belong. When one's time in their world has ended, they can then enter here, _mellon_. They make it their own." When one's time... No, he couldn't possibly mean...

"I..."

I stared at him, remembering it all. I remembered first waking up in the forest, not knowing where I was. I remembered finding Boromir and the others, and inadvertently saving his life. I remembered ditching my backpack in the fields. I remembered at that moment beginning my change into who I was now. I remembered caring for him in Edoras, watching Théoden return to himself. I remembered Bera. Helm's Deep. Aldburg. The countless losses we had all endured together. Realizing I loved Boromir, and nearly dying from my wounds. Boromir's proposal, and Aragorn's coronation. Building a life here. I remembered thinking I had lost Boromir so many times, and having to be strong when I realized I couldn't go home. It had nearly broken me entirely when I thought I'd never see my world, and my family again. And yet...

This was my world now, and its inhabitants my family. I was building a life with Boromir, and soon we would be married. For the first time in my entirety of being in Middle Earth, I felt a full sense of utter peace. Even in these last six months I had struggled sometimes. But now, for some reason, it felt so final, albeit still confusing as all hell, yet final. I was strong, I was ready, and I was home. I looked Reuel in the eyes, my confusion radiating, but my strength brighter than any sun that had ever existed in the cosmos.

Reuel seemed to sense my acceptance, and stepped to the side, extending his hand to the door of the Library. "Please, do come in, Kayla. I am sure you have many questions, and I have much to tell you."

 _The End_

* * *

 **A/N:** **Well, that's all she wrote, folks. It has been a journey and a half writing this story. I hope the ending was sufficient for you readers. I didn't want to have some neatly-tied-in-a-bow ending, where everything is explained, but I also didn't want to leave everyone on a cliff-hanger, either. So, with this ending, feel free to interpret it however you like. That was my intent.**

 **I have finished stories before, the last being back in 2015. Usually, I can only stay interested for a couple of weeks, maybe a few months. But, for some reason, I wanted to finish this story. Don't ask me what changed in me, I don't know. I've gone on a large journey myself in these last two and nearly a half years. This story is my baby, and it always will be. It is my most successful, and I will cherish it, and you, my readers, always. Now, I must brush the dust from my psyche, the nostalgic tears from my eyes, and endure. Thank you, everyone, I finished this all because of you.** ** _Namàrië._**


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